


Beholden

by TheAstralTina (TinaOnTheAstralPlains)



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Blood Magic, Blood and Violence, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Kirkwall, Oral Sex, Public Sex, Sex, Sexual Content, Shower Sex, Smut, Tevinter, Tevinter Imperium
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-20
Updated: 2015-05-20
Packaged: 2018-03-31 12:01:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 51,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3977293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TinaOnTheAstralPlains/pseuds/TheAstralTina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Beholden is my contribution to the 2015 Dragon Age Big Bang Challenge.  </p><p>For the other half of the challenge, Scarlet Hawke and Fenris have been brilliantly immortalized by picchar on Tumblr.</p><p>http://picchar.tumblr.com/post/119465375971/my-part-of-the-dragon-age-big-bang-with?utm_medium=email&utm_source=html&utm_campaign=new_mention_normal_friends&utm_term=post_119465375971</p><p>Scarlet Hawke, a refugee escaping the Blight in Ferelden, settles in Kirkwall, across the Waking Sea.  There, she meets Fenris, an elf who is trying to outrun his former slave-master.  Fenris hopes she will be able to help end his pursuit.  But, will Scarlet find the time while she’s responsible for the welfare of an entire city-state?  Not only is Kirkwall embroiled in the midst of an intensifying conflict between its mages and the Templar Order that governs them, but it’s also currently housing an isolated group of horned giants, the Qunari, whose tension with the ruling Viscount only escalates.</p><p>As Fenris hunts for freedom, and searches for answers to a past he cannot remember, he can’t help but become part of Hawke’s team, and part of her family.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Four People and One Dog

Chapter 1: Four People and One Dog

Year 1

  


  


From his perch atop the wall, Fenris could survey the entirety of Kirkwall’s elven alienage. The sacred tree, the vhenadahl, stood sentinel in the center of the grounds, one of the few trees found inside of the city. The people had decorated the tree in celebration of their heritage, painting elven images upon it, and creating shrines to their gods around its perimeter. Day and night, candles burned, alighting their modest home in a warm glow. 

Fenris had never lived amongst the people, never seen an alienage The conditions were squalid, quarters cramped. Hidden behind the poorest corner of Lowtown, the location of Kirwall’s alienage was barely a step above the polluted basement streets of Darktown.

A year ago he had escaped Danarius, a Tevinter Magister of immeasurable power, by a stroke of pure luck. Ever since, his former master had hunted him across Thedas. Returning to a life of slavery, his greatest fear, was ever present.

The name Hawke, the Fereldan refugee who had taken up residence in Kirkwall, had spread all the way to the far northwest reaches of the Tevinter Imperium. Tales of Hawke’s recent penchant for breaking up the human trafficking rings of slavers had made headlines all across Tevinter, the only country in Thedas in which slavery was still legal. Fenris tired of merely living under the guise of freedom. After he caught wind of Danarius following him to the Free Marches, he lured Hawke to the alienage in hopes of ending this life of evasion.

The first to descend the stairs was a ginger haired woman who looked as if she could handle herself in a fight. She stood taller than most human men, her body revealing the shape of a woman underneath her heavy plate armor.

Is this Hawke? he wondered.  No, she’s guarding the others .

A dog advanced down the steps, nose in the air. Its coat was short and light colored, contrasting sharply against the dark muzzle, and the stripes over its shoulders. The Fereldans were well known for their war hounds, the Mabari. Certainly the one to command the dog would be Hawke.

A short human woman silently ordered the dog to step back with a wave of her hand. Dark hair flowed to her waist. With only the light of the waning moon, and the candles on the altar, her hair shimmered, a rich mahogany kissed with highlights of violet and crimson. She was of a similar height to the woman beside her, whose hair was cropped short above her pointed elven ears. Both were mages.

Mages made him nervous. Tevinter was also the only country in Thedas to be ruled by mages. He didn’t trust them.

A blonde beardless male dwarf brought up the rear. Multiple gold hoops pierced his ears. A large golden chain, also bearing a thick golden ring adorned his neck. The deep “V” of his crimson and gold tunic revealed a wealth of flaxen chest hair beneath a bronto hide jacket. The dwarf held a repeating crossbow nearly as big as him, the likes of which Fenris had never seen before.

Impressive,  he thought .

Four people and one dog to take on Danarius. He didn’t like those odds. But, Kirkwall’s back alleys and slums were infamous for shady characters. Surely this rag-tag crew would prove their mettle.

Hawke pointed her staff toward a door in the corner. The tall woman went first, followed by the elf, the dwarf, the dog, and Hawke at the rear.

She’s making sure she knows where everyone is. 

Listening at the door, the tall woman waved to Hawke. Hawke and the dog came forward. 

Fenris watched the dog sniff the door, then sit and look at Hawke. She carefully turned the doorknob and entered first, letting the dwarf bring up the rear again. His opinion of her, recently lowered when he discovered that she was a mage, rose slightly. 

Her team is her first priority. Commendable .

Thanks to the abilities granted him via the lyrium tattoos forced up on him by Danarius, Fenris listened too. His acute senses allowed him to gather a great deal of information from a far distance. He closed his eyes for a moment, breating in through his nose, and out through his mouth in deep, controlled breaths. He heard only the soft chatter of voices inside. There was no fight. Danarius still played him.

He leapt over the edge of the wall, landing silently on his bare feet fifteen feet below, and approached the door where Hawke’s team had entered. Fenris heard them approach the inside of the door, and vanished into the blue vapor of torment. Making his escape, he reappeared at the base of the stairs just in time to see a familiar face, but not the one he sought.

Hadley, one of Danarius’ apprentice mages, ordered the men behind him to take Fenris by any means necessary.

“What’s going on here?” Hawke demanded to know.

A glowing ball of white light appeared in Hadley’s hand. “It is not of your concern.”

Hawke lowered her staff at him. “As long as you’re pointing that in my direction, I say it is.”

“Kill the others! The master wants his pet alive,” Hadley yelled.

Hawke and her companions took cover and returned fire. The tall woman advanced, the sword and shield of Kirkwall’s city guard brandished. Fenris drew his great sword and went straight for Hadley. The dog ran past him, to grab the man by the leg, taking him to the ground.

Fenris turned and shouted to Hawke. “Don’t let your dog kill him! I need him alive!”

Hawke called the Mabari off. Fenris placed a foot at the throat of the man. He rested the tip of his sword, a sword longer than he was tall, over the man’s heart.

Hawke’s team finished off the rest of the men. The stench of blood filled his nostrils. He was no stranger to death, but took no joy in killing. There was only one man he wanted dead. And that man was not here.

“Where is he?” Fenris snarled at Hadley.

The Mabari’s jaws dripped slather only inches away from the man’s trembling head.

Hawke came to stand between her dog and Fenris, staring down at the man being held at swordpoint. “I’d answer him if I were you.”

“Danarius sent us after you . He heard word that you were here. He already left for Tevinter,” Hadley said, through chattering teeth.

“You know he sent you to your death,” Fenris stated.

“I do now,” Hadley replied.

Fenris let his sword clatter to the ground. He hoisted Hadley, by his throat, into the air. The mage’s feet dangled; the toes of his fine silken shoes drug the ground.

Hawke took a step back. The man flailing before her easily outweighed Fenris by several stones.

“He’ll find you,” the man choked out.

“I’m counting on it,” Fenris said quietly, before his other hand disappeared into the man’s chest. His tattoos limned with blue as pain rushed through his body.

Hawke took another step back. The dog growled, low in his throat.

“Maker’s breath,” exclaimed the dwarf in a whisper.

  


“Put down the body, and step away from your weapon, elf,” the tall woman ordered.

He had no desire to fight these people. Fenris dropped Hadley’s lifeless body, and his sword before turning to face the red head. His tattoos still glowed, while his face remained passive.

“Identify yourself,” she commanded him.

“I am Fenris,” he answered, adroitly keeping an eye on how far he was from his sword, just in case.

Hawke came to stand next to her friend. “Aveline, I’m sure he means us no harm.”

“You’re too trusting, Hawke,” Aveline reminded her.

“I’m just trusting Spike on this one,” she said, gesturing to the Mabari, sitting next to Fenris’ hand that dripped with blood.

“The dog is always right,” the elf mage added.

“Merrill, stay out of this,” Aveline snapped.

The dwarf stepped forward, his crossbow at his side. He laid a finger on Aveline’s sword hand, encouraging her to lower it. She did.

Hawke stepped forward. Her eyes met his. They were green, like his own, but closer to olive, where his were closer to spring grass. A smile spread across her lips momentarily. She extended a hand to him. “Scarlet Hawke.”

He held his blood soaked hand straight up in the air and wiggled his fingers at her. It looked like a wave, but he was reminding her that his hand was covered in fresh, wet blood.

She extended her other hand to him. They clasped their hands around each others’ forearms, their eyes once again locked.

“Fenris. A pleasure to meet you, Hawke,” he said politely. “I thank you for your help in this matter. And I apologize for not coming forth before this encounter. But, as you just learned, I am a hunted elf.”

“Hunted by whom” she asked.

“Danarius, my former master.” He was not shy in admitting that he used to be a slave.

“Oh.” Her eyes left his for a moment, running down the length of his body and back up to his eyes again.

A corner of his mouth raised, as did one eyebrow.

She smiled and laughed a small, quick laugh. “And you want my help?”

“I’ve heard a lot about you. Even Tevinter is talking about your deeds. I thought you’d be as good a place to start as any. Please, take that as the compliment it’s meant to be, if you will.”

She still held his gaze. He expected it to make him uncomfortable at any moment. But, he found it intriguing.

Their eyes searched each others’ faces. He let his travel down her body, the way hers had done to his moments ago. She had strong wide hips and shoulders, and a narrow waist. He could probably fit both of his hands nearly around it, he surmised. She wore dark tan leather pants and matching knee high boots. Her jacket fell to her hips and was slightly lighter colored.

Nug skin, perhaps? One didn’t see much of it in Tevinter.

She blended into the color of the walls here in the Alienage and Lowtown, he noticed. Her long hair helped hide her face amongst the shadows of Kirkwall’s reprobates.  Clever .

She inclined her head toward his weapon. “Get your sword, Fenris. Then, tell me how I can help free you from him permanently. I will not abide slavers in Kirkwall.”

“Hawke, a word?” Aveline asked.

Fenris picked up his sword, followed closely by the Mabari. He found that dogs tended to be comfortable around him, but this one seemed quite at ease for being a war hound. He had always heard that Mabari were fiercely loyal to their person, and wary and distrustful of strangers.

“Spike, leave him be?” Hawke asked.

The dog looked affronted and sat next to Fenris.

Fenris looked at Hawke, shrugging. “He’s fine.”

Hawke nodded, and returned to her conversation with her companions.

Fenris walked over to the hydrant in the corner of the Alienage and washed the blood from his arm. The dog followed. He let the water run, and Spike drank from the tap. Fenris put his mouth underneath, when Spike had had his fill, and took several long draws.

He stood, wiping his mouth with the back of his wet hand, as the dry one held his sword.

Hawke approached as her companions filed up the steps together.

“Come to the Hanged Man with us . . . please,” she added when she realized that it sounded like a request instead of the offer it was meant to be. “We can talk there, in private. Let me help you.”

Fenris kept his face still and nodded once.

As she walked away he watched her staff as she used it like a walking stick, moving it as if it were part of her body. She was a mage. Mages were the reason he was in this whole mess to begin with. He could not forget that.

  


The Hanged Man was a boisterous pub. The dwarf waved to the barkeep, who acknowledged him with a tip of his chin. Fenris followed the dwarf, the two mages to the back of the pub, up some stairs, and into a well lit room. Aveline had excused her self earlier, stating that she had “. . . an early shift.”

A large wooden table stood in the center of the room, obviously dwarven in nature, surrounded by over-sized wooden armchairs. Spike curled up in front of the fire. 

The dwarf turned to him, extending a hand. “Varric Tethras, welcome to my pub. Well, it’s going to be my pub one day. Make yourself at home. What can I get you? You look famished. But, elves always look famished to me.”

“I’m fine,” Fenris said.

Varric placed both hands on the table and looked Fenris in the eye. “When was the last time you ate?”

Fenris glared at him, stone-faced.

“That’s what I thought,” Varric said, as a tavern wench entered with a tray of steins in hand. 

She set the ornate one in front of Varric at the head of the table, his back to the stairs. Hawke and Merrill sat across from where Fenris stood, and had drinks placed in front of them as well.

The tavern wench, who Fenris noticed was an elf, smiled shyly at him, handing the stein to him. “What can I get for you, serah?”

He reached out and took the drink from her. “Just this,” he answered. He certainly had no idea as to what kind of food was served in taverns in Kirkwall, and wasn’t going to make a fool of himself. Besides, he had little coin, and he was hanging onto that in case of emergency.

Varric spoke up. “He’ll have the special, Skipper. In fact we’ll all have the special. Don’t forget one for the dog.”

Spike gave a soft “woof” from his seat of honor, without opening an eye.

“Oh, no, Varric. I’m not hungry,” Merrill insisted.

“Daisy, you especially always look starving. You’re eating.” His eyes met each set of eyes at the table. “Everyone is eating. It’s on the house. Now, drink up and let’s see how we can help out our new friend.”

  


Later, after eating a hot, brown, rib-sticking stew, about which Varric said, “Never ask what’s in it,” and drinking four mugs of cool, amber ale, Fenris was relaxed for the first time in memory. They had agreed to case an abandoned mansion in Hightown tomorrow. Fenris knew if Danarius was in Kirkwall he wouldn’t have been slumming it in Lowtown; he’d be schmoozing the aristocrats. And, Hawke had heard reports of questionable activity coming from inside the home.

Fenris was warm, and reclined in his chair, propping up his feet on the seat next to him. Merrill rose to take her leave. He had seen her having trouble keeping her eyes open. When she too realized it, she excused herself to return to her home in the Alienage.

Varric stood. “Wait, as a gentleman, I can’t let you walk back there alone.”

“Varric, that’s silly,” Merrill said, putting her hand up. “It’s just around the corner.”

“Nonetheless, I’m going to accompany you. Stop arguing.” Varric turned to Fenris. “You’re welcome to stay here tonight, Fenris. You too, Hawke.”

“Thanks, Varric. But, you know how Mother worries. I like to keep my nights away to a minimum. I should head home too.” Hawke stood and gathered her staff. Spike raised his head.

“I’ll see you home, then,” Fenris said, taking his feet from the chair, and setting them upon the ground. He wasn’t sure why he offered so quickly. But, after Varric offered it to Merrill, he felt it was appropriate behavior at this point.

“Thanks, Fenris. But, Spike is more than enough protection for me at this hour,” Hawke refused gently.

“Let the elf walk you home, Hawke. There’s people trying to kill you. You’ve had a few drinks. It’s safer,” Varric pointed out.

“So-has-he!” Hawke exclaimed, slightly slurring her words together.

“Ha! Then, you two together will make one sober person and one drunk person. You can debate who is who on the way,” Varric insisted.

“Fine,” Hawke surrendered. “Fenris, you can sleep in Carver’s bed then. He doesn’t use it anymore.”

“And Carver is?”

“My brother. He’s not around much ever since I told him that I don’t want him to come into the Deep Roads with us.”

“It’s settled then. See you two tomorrow sometime. Get some rest. Be safe,” said Varric as he turned and ushered Merrill down the steps.

Hawke stood slowly and walked over to Spike. She bent down to him, nudging him with her hand. The dog stood and stretched, lackadaisically. 

Fenris watched before getting up and sheathing his sword on his back. These people were so comfortable with each other. 

This must be what a family is like , he thought. Then, he wondered why that occurred to him in the first place.  Surely, it must be the ale.

  


They walked a few minutes in silence. Their steps slow and deliberate, both of them trying not to show the effects of the four, or was it five, mugs of strong dwarven ale they had imbibed in the last hour or so. The pub served Kirkwall swill to the public. Varric kept casks of the good stuff for himself. 

Hawke waited until they were in the shadow of a dark corner, and abruptly turned to Fenris, stopping him in his tracks. Surprised by her nimble movement he retreated backwards, slamming into a wall. He reached out, gripping her by her arms tightly, exchanging places with her. He shoved her back to the wall with such force that the breath audibly left her lungs in a rush of air.

Spike growled.

Fenris released his grip and backed up a step. “I’m sorry. You startled me.”

“Spike, go home and wait for me,” Hawke pointed the direction in which they had been walking as she doubled over catching her breath. The dog walked down one building and sat on the steps. “Fenris, why did you seek me out?”

“They say that ‘Hawke puts an end to things.’ I need an end.” His determined gaze met hers.

“Why did you come this far? Tantervale and Starkhaven are much closer to Tevinter” she wondered.

“You weren’t in Tantervale or Starkhaven,” he answered.

“Surely you could have found someone else to help you there, though” she insisted.

He bowed his head. “Hawke, I don’t know anyone else. I don’t have a friend in this world.”

“I know what that’s like,” she told him. 

Raising his head again, he caught her eyes with his. “I was a slave my entire life. I have no memories until the moment I had these markings forcibly tattooed on my body. I suppose that was five or so years ago. But, as a slave I had no concept of time, nor friends. Danarius hunts me; I’m a game to him, a trophy, something to be won and used. I can’t fight his army by myself. You were the only thing I could think of. I may have thought twice about it if I had known you were a mage though, I admit.”

“Oh, you disapprove of apostates?” She was aghast. With one hand on her hip, she poked the tip of her staff into the center of his chest. “You relied on this mage to save your ass tonight.”

“You’re lucky I know what an apostate is. There’s no such thing in Tevinter.” He removed her staff from his chest with the palm of his hand. “I disapprove of mages, especially mages with power. All my life I have suffered at the hands of mages. I don’t trust them, and never will.” His face remained neutral through it all. Surely, she would not still help him after this.

She took a step forward, standing toe-to-toe with him, pressing her chest against his.

His tattoos flared to life briefly.

“I have some news for you, Elf. You’ve made friends with two mages tonight. You should watch your mouth before you undo that and end up enslaved again. If you have no friends, who will save you when that happens?” She pressed her lips together tightly with her chin tipped up to his face.

“No one. I will take my own life before I let Danarius take me back into his custody again,” he spat out, heaving deep heavy breaths.

Her face softened. “I’m not going to let that happen, Fenris. I just . . . need you to trust me a little. Can you try to do that?” she asked.

He didn’t understand. There was so much he didn’t understand. He had to ask. “Why would you still help me?”

“What? After you admitted to me that you’ve been enslaved by a magister, had these markings forced upon you, and that all you can even remember is the last few years of your life as a slave? How could I let you go back to any of that? I’m a mage, not a monster, Fenris.” She looked offended.

Mages were all monsters where he came from. “I’m sorry. That was . . . unkind of me. My manners are nearly non-existent. My apologies.”

Why was she so close still?

She laid a hand on his arm, setting his skin afire where it made contact with his bicep. He jumped at her touch. For the first time in memory someone touched him without malice, without hate, without harm in their eyes. His heart raced. His breath deepened. His eyes narrowed betraying his stoic facade. 

She smiled. “Well that’s almost a smile, I guess.” She let her hand slid down his arm and took him by the hand. 

His eyes followed her hand, the way it floated across his skin, the way it made the hairs of his arm stand on end, the way it barely touched him yet he felt nothing else in that moment. Her touch left a trail of light across his tattoos, from his shoulder to his fingertips. He noticed that his skin didn’t burn the way it did when he was touched by others. His body hummed with vibration as the rest of his tattoos began to glow softly. It didn’t hurt. He had never felt the touch of a friend, for that’s what she called herself. It felt good: the touch of her hand, having her close, being alone with her.

“They’re so beautiful.” Stepping into him, so that their chests touched again, ever so slightly, she asked, “Fenris, can I kiss you?”

No one had ever asked him for permission before. He had been used in every way imaginable by Danarius and his guests, sometimes in the middle of the room with onlookers, sometimes in private. He never had a choice in it. He never took pleasure, but was forced to give it, and forced to fake his own enjoyment. Now, this woman, this mage, asked for his permission to put her lips to his. He didn’t know what to say. His first instinct was to say no. He would have said no to every single person who had ever touched him before, but not one of them had ever asked.

Now, he was asked, and he was afraid to even try it. He had seen others kiss, with love and affection, where permission didn’t need to be asked, it was understood. That seemed to be the way to try it were he to ever again kiss another.

“I’m supposed to be seeing you home safely, not letting you get mauled by some stranger in a dark corner,” he said to her. “Besides, I’m sure it’s just the dwarf’s ale talking.”

She dropped his hand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable. That was rude. I’m a horrible hostess. Come on. I’ll give you a warm bed to sleep in, as long as you don’t mind Spike’s snoring.”

  


Inside of the door he saw a grey haired woman, who he surmised was her mother, sitting in front of the fire with a ball of thick, fluffy yarn strung between two large wooden needles.

“Oh, you brought a man home, at this late hour, Scarlet? That’s new!” The woman said without looking up from her work.

“Mother, this is Fenris. He—well he was attacked tonight. We saved him. And he needed a place to stay since it’s so late. Varric was going to let him stay at the Hanged Man. But, he had to walk Merrill home, so Fenris offered to walk me home. And it’s just too dangerous for him to go back there by himself. So, I told him he could stay in Carver’s bed tonight. I knew he wouldn’t be here. I’m sorry I made you wait up for me, Mother.”

“Well, we can’t have him wandering the streets at night. Lowtown isn’t safe. Hightown is hardly safe enough for that.” She extended a hand to him. He reached his to hers. “Fenris, darling of course you’re welcome to stay here tonight. Please, call me Leandra.” She patted his hand gently.

Scarlet saw him genuinely smile for the first time then.

“Thank you, Leandra. It was my pleasure to see your daughter home safely. I appreciate your hospitality.” His cheeks turned ever so slightly pink.

Spike padded into the room on the other side of the fireplace and curled up upon a sheepskin thrown over a pillow on the floor.

“Get to bed, you two. It’s late and you look tired, and a little drunk,” Leandra laughed.

“This way,” Scarlet gestured to him.

Despite the cool night air outside, the room was warm, nestled behind the fireplace. There were two beds in it, one stacked atop the other, against the wall opposite the dog. Scarlet closed the door behind them, then sat on the edge of the mattress of the bottom bunk and began to remove her boots. Her fingers fumbled with the buckle. Her mother was right. It was late and they were a little drunk. He removed the bandolier from over his shoulder that held his sword, and hung it on a nail on the wall. Then, he knelt upon one knee, and took her foot in his hand. He had removed the shoes of countless people in Tevinter. Sometimes he did it before he was even asked because he knew it was coming.

But, now he watched a new found friend fumble to get to bed. A friend who had stuck her neck out for him today, who was willing to help him stop Danarius, to keep him out of that life. He did this deed out of the kindness of his heart, a heart he was only just discovering, because he wanted to, because it was the right thing to do. That feeling made his newfound heart swell. His tattoos began to glow again. He gritted his teeth expecting pain. Instead it was that strange tingling sensation from earlier. Still it was uncomfortable.

He pulled off one boot and set to unbuckling the other. 

Her hand stayed his. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Let me,” he assured her.

Her eyes traveled his body once again. “Why do your tattoos glow?”

“Because of the lyrium,” he answered.

“Lyrium? How could they? I’ve never heard of it used that way before?”

“They make an ink out of lyrium dust. It’s uncommon in Tevinter, and causes unpredictable side effects, so it’s not done often, from what I hear. I’ve never heard of anyone else surviving the process.” He set her boot next to it’s mate by the bed post.

“It must have been very painful for you.”

“Excruciating.” 

“They hurt when they glow, don’t they?” she asked, her voice full of concern.

“Yes, they do.” He still held her foot in his hand, rubbing it absently.

She let her head fall back and let out a sigh. “Oh, that feels good.”

His hands stilled a moment. Taking her foot with him, he sat at the other end of the bed, spinning her as he went.

Her hands went to her jacket, undoing the buttons at the front, spreading it wide open. Afterwards, she began undoing the lace of the corset beneath. When the lace was unthreaded from all but one bottom hole, she secured it to the garment, so as not to lose it.

He watched her hands go about their nightly routine of soothing the skin that covered her ribs, her stomach, her back, and her breasts. The nipples puckered beneath the fabric. She rubbed at them with her palms.

He averted his eyes, back to the foot in his hand. He put it down and picked up the other one.

“Fenris?”

When he looked up at her, she was watching him.

“I won’t let him hurt you again.”

His throat tightened. His chest felt heavy. His tattoos glowed again. He squeezed her foot in his hand. “Thank you, Hawke.”

Her head fell back to the pillow. “Call me Scarlet. Varric used to be the only one to call me Hawke. Then, Carver started doing it to mock me. Now, everyone calls me Hawke.”

“Scarlet it is.”

“You can take the top bunk, unless you’d be more comfortable on the bottom, that is. It doesn’t matter to me.” She raised herself up on her elbows to see him again.

He set her foot on the bed and patted it. “The top is fine. Thank you, Scarlet.”

He stood, taking off his belt, hanging it on the nail too. When he turned back around, she was curled up on her side watching him through heavily lidded eyes, smiling. He placed his hands upon the mattress and vaulted into the top bunk effortlessly.

He listened to her breathe for what seemed like a long while. It wasn’t the slow, deep breath of sleep.

“Goodnight, Fenris,” she said much later.

“Scarlet . . .” He waited for her reply.

“Mmmhmm.”

“Next time you want to kiss me, you needn’t ask.”


	2. Face-to-Face

Chapter 2: Face-to-Face

Year 3

  


  


“Varric, I don’t see how one could even get a horse into Kirkwall, let alone Darktown!” Merrill exclaimed.

“I’m telling you, I walked into Blondie’s clinic one day, and there it was. He was healing a horse! He’ll heal anything. He’s a good guy,” Varric insisted.

“Oh, Anders is a good guy, otherwise Hawke wouldn’t have anything to do with him,” Merrill assured Varric. “Right, Hawke?”

Hawke noticed the tension build in Fenris as he walked next to her. 

During Fenris’ first year in Kirkwall they would occasionally exchange a flirtatious comment or glance from time to time. There were late night discussions over bottles of Tevinter wine where he never failed to comment on how much he enjoyed time with “such a beautiful woman.” But, nothing more ever came of it. So, when Anders began making advances on Hawke, she was easily swept off her feet.

Two years ago Hawke, Varric, and Varric’s brother, Bartand were preparing to fund a treasure hunting expedition into the ancient dwarven caverns, known as the Deep Roads.. The abandoned thaigs were rumored to still hold riches from the golden days of the empire. The only problem was that no one knew the way in from Kirkwall. Anders showed up at just the right time. He knew the way in and the way out of the Deep Roads, and seemingly Hawke’s heart too.

“Anders told me of a woman who has been asking for someone bearing your description. She’s been seen in Darktown, and in the Wounded Coast. I’ve also heard rumors of a group of rebel apostate blood mages holed up on the Wounded Coast. There might be some connection between the two, don’t you think?” she asked Fenris.

“Could be. I’ll go check it out,” Fenris told her.

“You’re not going alone. I’m coming with you of course,” she said, putting a hand on his arm.

He thought he would never get used to the feel of her hand on his arm. Years had passed, and he still expected it to set fire to his skin every single time.

“It’s not your fight, Hawke. If it’s Hadriana I will take her out once and for all,” Fenris said, shirking her hand away.

She grabbed his shoulder, “Hey! That’s not fair. You made this my fight when you showed up on my doorstep like a lost puppy. I’m coming with you.”

He stopped in his tracks, and took a deep breath.  “Fine, meet me at the Hanged Man at dawn tomorrow.” 

  


  


The sun on the Wounded Coast was beating down on them, as usual. The winding sand paths had only the occasional sparse palm tree which offered little shade. There was no breeze. The smell of the stagnant water in the bay of the Waking Sea was nearly overwhelming. But, if he was close enough he could get a whiff of sweat and leather, and the elfroot shampoo she used.

Hawke wore only a thin red leather bodice lined with silk, and tan linen pants tucked into her knee high boots, the ones he had removed for her his first night in Kirkwall. Her hair was wound high atop her head in a tight bun, with several loose tendrils falling down her neck sticking to her face. She untied the scarf from around her forehead and mopped her face and chest with it when they stopped to get a drink. Taking three long swallows from her waterskin before handing it to Fenris, she quickly averted her eyes.

He took it from her and drank his fill before handing it to Merrill. 

“Oh, thank you, Fenris,” Merrill said, appreciatively. “So thoughtful of you.”

He smiled at her. “You’re welcome.” Somehow, the Dalish elf, who turned out to not only be a mage, but a blood mage and an apostate (although she didn’t consider herself an apostate as the Dalish didn’t send their people to Circles), had grown on him. She was polite and thoughtful, always putting the needs of others before her own. And she had turned her back on her people. All things he could stand behind. He had never been fond of anyone that could have been considered to be “his people.” Especially since those people were Tevinter, which generally put them into two categories: magisters or slaves.

Varric drained the last of the water and tucked the empty skin into his pack. They rested underneath one of the meager palm trees at a fork in the road. “Hawke, you and Daisy want to head down that path a few hundred yards? Me and Elf will go this way and we’ll meet back here in a half hour to see what we see.”

She smirked in Varric’s direction knowing that he rarely suggested the two ladies go anywhere on their own together. “Sure, good idea. Come on Spike,” she said patting her leg.

The Mabari stood and stretched before glancing at Fenris and Varric. He followed slowly behind Hawke and Merrill, a good sign that danger was nowhere in the vicinity.

“You’re thinking about taking off after this, aren’t you, Elf?” Varric asked him, after the two mages took the other fork in the road.

“Yes, I am,” Fenris answered. How the dwarf knew the things he knew, he’d never know.

“Why?”

“If Hadriana has indeed come after me it means that Danarius will not stop. I will not endanger you any longer by staying in Kirkwall. I will go to Danarius and kill him with my bare hands. He’ll never expect that I’d come back to Tevinter of my own free will. I’ll have the element of surprise on my side. And, then I’ll be rid of him for good.”

“That sounds like a pretty good plan . . .” Varric complimented him.

“Except?” prompted Fenris.

“Except that we’re not going to just let you up and leave to go face your former master. Ever thought of that, you broody bastard?”

Fenris wrinkled his nose. “You don’t know that I’m a bastard.”

“You don’t know that you’re not,” Varric retorted. 

“Yes, I have thought of that. First, it is not in the description of our relationship for you to ‘let’ me do anything. Secondly, I’m not asking your opinion on the matter. Thirdly, I do not brood.”

“You’re brooding as we speak,” Varric observed with a wave of his hand. “Have you told Hawke?”

“No! I have not ‘told’ Hawke! She’ll find out after I leave, and you tell her that I said, ‘Goodbye!’ Does that suffice, Dwarf?” Fenris raised his voice at Varric, something he rarely did. He was quite fond of the dwarf.

“No. It does not suffice, Elf. I’m not telling Hawke anything. You’re going to tell her ‘Goodbye’ if and when you leave. Face-to-face like. Understood?” Varric made sure he was being very clear.

“And why would I do that?” Fenris asked.

Varric approached him and put a finger into his chest. “Because you owe it to her. You two have been pining after each other for years now and I’m sick of it. I’m the one who catches all the backdraft, all the flack from the pent up emotions, and all the Anders bull-shit. She doesn’t love him. She loves you, you big idiot! And if you leave without saying ‘Goodbye’ to her I’m never going to hear the end of it because I’ll be here in Kirkwall still listening to her end of it. And you’ll be in Tevinter living large in some big, bloody mansion that doesn’t have holes in the plaster!”

Fenris swatted away Varric’s finger and turned his back to him as he walked away. “Why would you say that?”

Varric knew what he meant. “Because that place you’re staying in isn’t suitable for a nug. And, because she does love you. She’s always loved you, since the moment she laid eyes on you. She’s never looked at Blondie that way, not once. As soon as I knew you were getting ready to head out after this, I knew I had to tell you, because you didn’t know. You can leave without saying ‘Goodbye’ to her if you want to. But, I’m asking you not to do that, as a friend, man.”

Fenris sat on a rock, put his elbows on his knees, and bowed his head. “I can’t stay, Varric.”

“I’m not asking you to stay. I’m just asking you to tell her where you’re going so that I don’t have to see that look in her eye when I tell her. That look that you have on your face right now. It breaks my fucking heart, Elf.”

Fenris looked up at him. “You’re a hopeless romantic, Dwarf. Even if she does love me the way I love her, it will never work. We could never have what she has with Anders.”

“You won’t know that unless you try,” Varric encouraged him.

“Yes,” Fenris said. “I do.”

  


  


They approached the mouth of the cave in which the rebel mages were rumored to have set up camp. A decrepit mining cart partially blocked the entrance, crumbling into pieces as Fenris pushed it aside. Stepping over it, he was the only one who had to stoop to enter the cave.

Today, her eyes bore into him, making him hyper aware of his every move. The muscles of his shoulders and back were abnormally tight beneath the black leather he wore. He stretched, rotating his shoulder as he drew a circle in the air with his arm. Then, he withdrew his blade, ready to spring to action.. Barefoot, he padded silently as a cat across the stone, tossing the hair from his eyes with a flick of his head.

Spike followed closely on Fenris’ heels. Hawke and Merrill held their staves aloft, shedding a glimmer of light into the dark cavern. Torches lined the wall, lit by the magic of the two mages as they passed, casting shadows ahead of them. They descended into the cavern silently. As they approached the first torch on the third level Fenris turned to Hawke, touched it and shook his head.

Hawke nodded once, and looked back at Merrill to make sure she got the message as well.

Merrill nodded at Hawke and at Fenris. Varric pointed with three fingers toward the next archway. That meant that they were to split off in three directions in the next chamber. Fenris would head straight out front towards the fray followed by Spike. Merrill and Hawke would fight back-to-back covering them, and Varric would find the highest ground. Hawke always trusted in Varric’s tactics. He had a knack for it, and hadn’t been wrong yet.

The cavern opened up into an immense space. The ceiling was easily two stories high. Wooden scaffolding towered above the stone floor, providing beneficial higher ground for the enemy. Chairs and chests were placed randomly throughout the area around small burnt marks on the ground from woodless mage fires. 

A tall, thin mage wearing floor length robes of lavender samite trimmed in golden cording stepped into the light. “Hello there, Little Wolf,” she said, in a sick, seductive voice. “I see you were smart enough not to come alone. A pity. I was hoping to take you without any bloodshed.”

“Hadriana. That will not be happening today,” Fenris sneered.

“No, it appears that it will not,” she said, with a pouty frown. “Don’t kill him. The master wants him alive,” she ordered.

Then, the firefight started. They were surrounded by mages, hidden by the shadows only a moment before, too many to even count. Luckily Hawke’s team was strong. Fenris was fast, and untraceable as he moved across the battlefield in a blur of blue haze. Merrill and Hawke used their abilities in tandem. Merrill’s very soul spoke to the land on which she stood. It drew in her attackers, slowly pulling them towards her and Hawke, and out from the safety of their cover. Varric ran up a rickety flight of steps and took cover behind a wooden post, firing upon mages as Merrill’s spell drew them out. Hawke cast spells of ice to freeze the movement of any mage who escaped the pull of Merrill’s spell. Fenris was able to shatter these mages into countless tiny shards with one strike. Spike ran to the outskirts, chasing any mage who was too far out of the reach of Merrill’s pull.

Hadriana saw the threat of the mages who defended her Little Wolf, and attempted to put an end to them. She turned Merrill’s magic back on her, and Merrill became caught in her own spell. She was rooted to the spot where she stood, unable to cast any other spells. The attacking mages saw this and began to close in on Hawke and the defenseless elf. Varric also became caught in Merrill’s spell, thanks to Hadriana, and fought to stop himself from toppling over the edge of the railing, twenty feet above the stone floor beneath him. He loaded a clawed hook into Bianca, his beloved crossbow, and fired it at the ceiling. He was pulled into the air, dangling precariously above Merrill and Hawke, safe from Merrill’s spell now that he was centered above its gravitational pull.

Fenris defended his friends from the enemy mages who had escaped Merrill’s spell. Now, he and Spike both began to fight against the pull of Merrill’s spell. It was like wading through knee deep honey trying to reach the mages who were slowly withdrawing from the center of the fray.

Hadriana’s laugh rang throughout the cavern, off of the stone walls in a horrid echo. “Now, Little Wolf, will you surrender to save your friends?”

He turned to look at Varric, hanging from the ceiling, who shook his head.

Merrill was still paralyzed in the confines of her own spell. She hadn’t moved a muscle nor blinked an eye.

Hawke was being restrained by the magic of the three other mages who were still standing. One of them dripped blood from her wrists, her hands held down against her body, matching the position in which Hawke stood. Another held her staff and Hawke’s staff trained on Hawke. Hawke’s mouth was covered in a layer of ice. The third held a blade covered in blood to his own throat, ready to use blood magic to end Hawke’s life with a flick of his wrist, waiting for Hadriana to give the order.

Hawke’s olive green eyes were wide and wet. They pleaded with Fenris, wordlessly. She was unable to move.

Fenris still held his blade as he looked at her. He took a step in her direction inadvertently. The mage with the dagger began to make the motion of swiping it across his throat which did not bleed, but blood began to run down Hawke’s neck. She coughed. But, her mouth was frozen shut. Her cheeks puffed out, snot ran from her nose, and her chest heaved. 

Fenris stopped. He opened his hands and his blade clattered to the ground. He looked at Spike and held up a hand to stay the war hound.

“Let her go. Let them all go. I’ll come with you,” Fenris surrendered, his eyes never leaving Hawke. This could be the last time he would see her. He wanted to catch her when she fell free from all of those spells that held her in place. He wanted to wipe her face and her neck, to melt the ice from her lips with his breath, to hold her just one time. He walked backwards, towards Hadriana, keeping his eyes on Hawke for as long as he could. 

Hadriana laid a hand on his shoulder. “Come, my Little Wolf. The Master will be so happy to see you returned home.” She nodded to the three mages who held Hawke in place. “Fend them off for as long as you can. My spell will hold the other two until we are too far for them to follow us. You’re on your own after that, my dears.”

“You said that you would get us out of Kirkwall!” yelled the young man with the dagger.

“You promised,” said the girl holding Hawke’s staff.

The girl with blood dripping from her own wrists scoffed. “We’re strong enough to take them. They’ve already been defeated. And they don’t have blood magic!”

“The deal was for you to spare them,” Fenris said through gritted teeth.

“I’m not here to make deals,” said Hadriana. Laying her palm on his cheek, she brushed the pad of her thumb across his bottom lip.

With lightning fast reflexes he snatched her hand from his mouth, and wrenched her arm back so far that the shoulder popped free of its socket. She had but a moment to scream before he punched her in the jaw, just under her ear, knocking her unconscious. The anger and fear flooded Fenris. He let the lyrium take over, disappearing into a blue mist towards the mage holding the blade. When he rematerialized he stood holding the young man’s heart.

Merrill, her magic now free from Hadriana’s interference, turned to the mage holding Hawke’s body in paralysis. Merrill “I’ll show you blood magic, girl,” Merrill chided. The skin of the girl’s forearms split from wrist to elbow. Blood dripped down her fingertips as she dropped to her knees.

Varric paid out his line, lowering himself from his perch far above the stone floor. He fired a bolt at the hand of the girl holding Hawke’s staff, pinning her staff to the wall behind her. Hawke’s staff clattered to the ground. Spike trotted over to retrieve it.

The ice binding Hawke’s mouth shattered and she was freed of her confines. She ran the back of her hand across her face. “Merrill, stop!” Hawke commanded.

Merrill’s lips pursed into a thin line as she whipped her arms straight out to the side. The blood stopped flowing as the girl curled into the fetal position.

Fenris dropped the still warm heart from his grasp and ran to Hawke. 

A tear escaped each eye and ran down her cheeks as he helped her to her feet. She pressed her lips together, shaking her head as he tilted her face up to his.

He reached up, wiped the blood from her throat to find that the cut still bled. He pressed his hand to it to staunch the flow, and held the back of her neck and head with his other hand, the one still covered in blood. He finally gave in and laid his forehead to hers. 

For the first time he had reached out and touched her.

She too reached out now, letting her hands come up to find his waist, resting her hands on his hips.

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I couldn’t let you die, Scarlet.” He knew that no one else ever called her by her given name, not even Anders. He hadn’t even used it since he found out that she and Anders were involved. Somehow, it didn’t feel right.

Tucking her head under his chin, he wrapped both arms around her shoulders, and hugged her to him. She wrapped her arms around him too, clasping her hands behind his back.

They stayed embraced that way for a long moment. With his eyes closed and his chin resting atop her head he breathed in the scent of elfroot, enjoyed the rhythm of her heart beating against his ribcage, the feel of her breath across his neck.

Later, when he opened his eyes, he saw that one hand draped across her back was still covered in blood. Lifting it from her shoulders, he said, “I’m sorry. I’ve gotten blood all over you.” He let go of her and stepped away. Her hands stayed clasped refusing to break their embrace.

He looked down at her, as she tilted her head up to him, and caught his gaze. His chest swelled. Every thing in the cavern went quiet. She was all that existed in that moment.

One hand, warm and smooth, caressed his cheek. She threaded the fingers of her other hand into his hair. He turned his lips into her palm. She rose up on her toes, and pressed her lips, as well as her body, to his.

The tingling sensation, that only she gave him, spread throughout his body as his tattoos flared to life.

It was the slow, yet passionate kiss of two pairs of lips who had only just met. She was brave. He was tentative. She probed. He followed, deepening it. She opened for him. He squeezed her in his embrace, lifting her off the ground as if she weighed nothing. She held his face in her hands, and kicked her feet out behind her as he leaned backwards. He set her down again, reluctantly. But, his mouth never left hers. With their bodies pressed together, head-to-toe, they finally gave in to temptation.

  


“When do we interrupt them, Varric?” Merrill asked.

“Soon, I think. We still have three lives to deal with,” Varric answered.

“I don’t want to,” Merrill said.

“Neither do I, Daisy. Neither do I.”

  


Hadriana moaned as she regained consciousness. That snapped Fenris back to reality. He broke the kiss and shot his gaze to wear she lay on the ground near a hallway.

“I have to go deal with her, Scarlet,” he said, looking into her eyes.

“Of course,” Hawke replied, wiping at her neck.

Fenris squeezed her hand before walking away from her. He stalked up to Hadriana deliberately, grabbed her by her throat, and held her aloft shaking her.

She tried to reach her hand for him, but her arm was dead at her side. She tried to use the other one instead, but Fenris slammed her against the wall.

“Where is he?” he demanded.

“He’s at home,” she said.

He slammed her against the wall again. Her head hit the stone and left a red mark. “Where is he?!” he yelled into her face.

“He’s at home, in Tevinter. He sent me to retrieve you, Lit-” she stopped herself from using the diminutive she had given him.

Fenris slammed her against the wall again. Another red mark was left where her head hit the stone.

“Don’t kill me! I have information for you. About your family!” She bargained, desperately trying to save herself.

“I have no family,” Fenris growled.

“You do! You have a sister, and a mother.”

Fenris raised her high above his head. “Why?”

“Because Danarius released them from their service.”

“Why tell me now?” His voice was low and menacing.

“Let me go back to Tevinter and I will send them to you. You can be a family again, Fenris.” Hadriana was having trouble holding up her own head. Blood was running down her neck, pooling on her shoulders.

“Tell me their names and I will consider sparing you,” Fenris said.

“I don’t know their names but, I swear to find out,” Hadriana promised him.

Fenris set her down on her feet.

She steadied herself, momentarily looking up at him. Her head wobbled. “Than—”

Fenris’ fist dematerialized, sunk into her chest and came back out, her heart in his hand.

She toppled over.

He dropped Hadriana’s heart, picked up his sword, and strode from the cavern.

“Don’t let him do that to me,” cried one of apostates.


	3. Not Now

Chapter 3: Not Now

Year 3

  


  


The trip back to Kirkwall was quiet. They never caught up to Fenris after he decided to get a head start. One of the apostates in tow could walk. The other had lost too much blood and was barely conscious. Varric drug the apostate behind him, on a palette, the entire way, refusing to let either Hawke or Merrill help him for any length of time. Hawke had decided to take them back to the Circle to let First Enchanter Orsino deal with the apostates. She had originally wanted to take them to Anders to make sure they received proper care, but she knew he’d disapprove of turning them over to the Circle and didn’t want to have to deal with that. It was bad enough she would have to go see him for her own healing while thinking about kissing Fenris.

She and Anders had never established any sort of boundaries to their relationship. But, she knew that he only had eyes for her. And she knew that her heart had belonged to Fenris since before she had even met Anders. Fenris was aloof, unpredictable, and as likely to leave without saying “Goodbye” as he was to kiss her again. Anders was supportive, steady, and trustworthy. He never failed to be there for her when she would let him.

She couldn’t decide what to do now. Letting Anders go because of her feelings for Fenris seemed like the right thing to do. But, her feelings for Fenris hadn’t changed. One kiss wasn’t likely to bridge the gap that separated them all these years. Anders kept her warm on cold nights, soothed her when she couldn’t sleep, brought her mother flowers and books. He was practically a part of the family. Losing him would feel like losing a part of herself. And she had already left a huge piece of her heart with Fenris today.

Perhaps her feelings had changed. She would need to talk to Fenris before she made a decision, not that it would change the decision she already knew she must make.

The first decision she made was to wait until tomorrow to talk to Anders. Rarely did her friends get involved in their relationship, but she asked both Varric and Merrill not to say anything to Anders about what happened to her today. Both of them decided that it would be easier to avoid him, rather than lie to his face.

  


That evening, both Mother and Bodahn, doted on her, while she told them an abbreviated tale of their encounter with the blood mages. Hawke had found Sandal, Bodahn’s son who was lost in the Deep Roads, during their expedition. In thanks, Bodahn pledged his service to her family. He was a fiercely loyal dwarf. He brought her hot soup while she was in the library, and tucked her underneath a blanket in front of the fireplace.

“That big tower in the lake is scary,” Sandal said to her, while she sipped her soup.

“Yes, it is, Sandal. You would do well to stay far away from it,” she told him.

He nodded wide-eyed as he backed out of the room.

Mother insisted on applying a poultice and a bandage to the cut on her neck that Merrill had already healed. Then, she spread a thin layer of salve over the frost burn on her daughter’s lips after Hawke had finished her soup.

Hawke had purchased the Amell family estate after receiving her share of the profits from the Deep Roads expedition. The four of them had all moved into her mother’s childhood home within the last year. Scarlet had never been there before she purchased it, but she had heard countless stories about it from her mother. Knowing how important her mother felt that it was to keep it in the family, Hawke didn’t hesitate to buy it.

Fenris didn’t have any stories about his childhood , she thought.  He couldn’t even remember it. And it was likely spent in slavery also.

Her heart hurt for him. It was all she could do to muster the strength not to cry into her soup bowl when the thought occurred to her. If he was aloof and avoiding confrontation of their feelings towards each other because he had every reason to do so. He had never had these feelings towards someone before. He had never been held when he needed comfort, nor been fed when he was hungry, nor been able to be the shoulder for someone to find strength. He simply didn’t know how to do these things.

Then, another thought occurred to Scarlet.  He needed to be shown.

Her empty soup bowl sat on the table next to her. Bodahn had retired before she had even finished it. Everyone in the house knew that she needed space. The estate was quiet, and the room darkened as the fire died down. Hawke found that she was too weary to tend it. 

She must have dozed off, for she awoke to a hand on her shoulder as someone gently shook her and called her name.

“Scarlet. Scarlet, let me carry you to bed.” 

The voice belonged to Fenris.

Her eyes fluttered open.  Surely, I must be dreaming.

“Fenris, I’m going to show you . . .” she trailed off mid-sentence.

He shook her with both hands now. “Scarlet! Wake up! Come back to me.”

She sat straight up and her eyes flew open, staring at Fenris. “You’re not a dream.”

He smiled at her. “No. I’m not. Scarlet, I have some things I need to say to you. I can find you tomorrow, though,” he said trying to excuse himself. “You’re obviously exhausted.”

She reached out to put her hand on him as he jerked his arm away. 

“Please, don’t touch me. I can’t . . .” he paused, trying to find the words. “I can’t think clearly when you touch me.”

She looked down and slowly drew her hand back in to herself, tucking it under the blanket, and pulling it up around her shoulders. She waited for a moment, feeling the silence between them stretch that gap. She watched as he walked over to the fireplace, put his hands on the mantle and leaned into a stretch, letting his head hang down.

“Fenris, you came over here in the middle of the night. What is it that you have to say to me?” If he wasn’t going to leave he was certainly going to talk to her.

“I was going to leave. I didn’t expect to actually find Hadriana today. After, I was going to leave to go back to Tevinter, to find and kill Hadriana and Danarius on my own. I wasn’t going to tell you. I was just going to go.” He still stood in the same position, a position of shame, and humility, and exhaustion.

“Why?” she asked coolly. 

“I can’t live with their shadow hanging over me any longer. It’s all I can think about . . . when I’m not thinking about you.”

There it was.

“And now?”  Would he still go?

“It never gets any easier to make the decision to leave Kirkwall . . . to leave you. I can’t do it, Scarlet. It eats my up inside either way.” His hands dug into the mantle. It groaned under his weight and he stood a little straighter.

“Does Hadriana’s death make it easier to stay, to worry less about Danarius?” she asked.

“No. Once he finds out it will only be a matter of time before he comes for me. He’ll be angry. It will force him to take action. I won’t live in his shadow for much longer. I’m sure of it.”

Scarlet extricated herself from the blanket, walked over to Fenris and put her hands on his hips. “Is this what you came here to tell me?”

He sighed. “No.”

“Fenris, we’ll stand by you. You won’t face him alone,” she let the fingers of one hand rub slowly against his side.

He turned and snatched that hand and threw it back at her. “You won’t get anywhere near him!”

“Because you don’t want me to watch you kill him the way you killed Hadriana?” she spat at him. She was tired of the way he tried to lock her out of his life. She had to get it through to him, that he didn’t need to do it alone.

“Hadriana was not going to walk out of there alive today no matter what. Not after what she did to me,” his tattoos began to glow, faintly blue. 

“I didn’t expect her to, nor would I have let her. But, you didn’t want to do it there, in front of us. You tried to get her out of that room, alone, so you could tear her to shreds without our watchful eyes, didn’t you?” Scarlet pushed. She had to push now.

“Yes. I wanted to make her feel just a piece of what I felt after all those years,” his voice was heavy with emotion. His tattoos flared to life. He let out a rare groan as the room became awash in blue light. His hands balled into fists as he clenched his eyes shut tight.

“Fenris, don’t hide it from me. Not any longer. Let me share some of this burden with you. Tell me.” She stepped into him, resting her hands flat against his chest.

He swallowed, his arms still at his sides. “I don’t know how.”

She fed the fire, then took him by the hand and lead him over to the sofa. Sitting, she crossed her legs in front of her as she faced him, and he did the same. The blanket lay draped across the back of the couch. She grabbed it and spread it across their laps.

The reflection of the growing fire played across his eyes when he met hers. Here he was: this lonely soul she wanted to welcome into her fold. It was almost more than she could bear. He bowed his head while he gathered his thoughts and his emotions. The light of his tattoos faded.

“The first memory I have is the sensory overload of the pain of the tattoos. It felt as if they were flaying the skin from my body in tiny ribbons, using a white-hot scalpel. The pain isn’t that bad every time they glow. But, the memory of that pain comes back to threaten me every . . . single . . . time. I live in a near constant state of the fear of that pain, the way I was brought into this world. Every time you touch me, they glow at the spot of contact. Every single time you touch me I’m afraid of that pain returning. It’s terrifying still.

But, nothing in this world feels better than when you touch me, Scarlet. It doesn’t hurt. It tingles, a bit like when sit with your legs folded under you for too long. It’s warm. I can feel my heart beat in every place you come in contact with me. It makes me feel alive. Yet every time, I’m still afraid at first.”

She wrung her hands in her lap, looking down at them, breathing deeply, trying to rein in the sadness building inside of her.

He put his hands on hers staying them, folding them between his own.

She bowed her head now. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know it was going to be so hard to listen to you talk about it.”

“I didn’t know it would be so hard either. I’ve never told anyone before,” he admitted. “But, I do think it’s actually harder on you than it is on me, which I didn’t expect.”

“I’m sorry that it hurts you. I’m sorry that those horrible people hurt you.” She couldn’t apologize enough for what he had been through.

He took her by the shoulders then, and tipped her chin so that she was looking at his face. “Never apologize for something you didn’t do.”

She wanted to kiss him, to hold him and comfort him. She wanted to keep him safe here in her home and never let him leave.

His eyes searched her face, as if he were memorizing what it looked like to have someone look on him with such affection. His tattoos flared again, suddenly.

She leaned in to him. “You said I didn’t have to ask,” she said huskily.

“You never do,” Fenris told her.

Her lips were on his, stroking, tracing, nudging. Her tongue parted them, finding his, inviting it into the fray. She slid a hand around his neck, burrowing her fingers into his hair at the nape of his neck. He returned her kiss and her fervor. His hands cupped her face, pulling her towards him. His fingertips stroked her cheeks. She took his lower lip between her teeth, pulling at it. He groaned, intensifying the pressure as he possessed her mouth.

She threw the blanket onto the floor and climbed into his lap, wrapping her legs around his waist. His hands reached for her, grabbing her by the hips, guiding her down to him. Still fully clothed, she couldn’t stop her body from wanting him. Her hips rocked against him, pressing her buttocks against the growing bulge on which she sat. He pressed her down, rubbing himself between the cleft of her ass cheeks. They undulated against each other with furious desire. All that stood between their desire now was one thin layer of silk, and one thin layer of leather.

Her lips pulled away to leave his feeling cold and naked. Fenris,” she said against his ear. “Come to my room with me? Please?”

He did not want to deny her anything she asked of him. But, first he must finish divulging all of the information that he came to share. She may change her mind. He pulled away from her, and gently pushed her off of his lap.

“Scarlet, I want nothing more than that. I’ve wanted it since I met you. However, I came here to tell you about my past. I’m not quite finished yet. And, I’m afraid it may change your mind.” Stopping her was the hardest thing he had ever had to do. Telling her this was going to trump that.

She sat back and took a deep breath. “Fenris, I can assure you that it is not going to change my mind on how I feel about you. But, I’m listening.”

She was too close. He had to get up, get some distance between them. He stood and walked towards the fireplace again, rearranging himself.

“I was a sex slave in Tevinter. Most elves are sex slaves in Tevinter. Danarius not only forced himself upon me, Hadriana did too, but they used their magic and these tattoos to make me pretend to enjoy it too. Sometimes it was in private, sometimes in public. They would have parties and make me perform in the center of the room, with them, with another slave, with another magister. I’ve done everything you can imagine, and many things you cannot.” 

He turned to her then. “I had never known the touch of another due to true affection until you touched me. I had never been kissed because I wanted to be kissed until you kissed me today.

Tevinter’s use of elves as sex slaves was widely known. She had always suspected that Fenris had been used in this manner, and it sickened her that anyone could use another living soul that way. But, hearing it from his own lips, made it even worse. She hated Danarius with every fiber of her being in this moment. She wasn’t sure what to do or say next, but she knew that she certainly still loved the elf standing in front of her, baring his soul.

“Fenris, I—”

He cut her off. “I’m not finished. Sometimes, instead of sex Danarius wanted to watch me torture and kill people. Sometimes slaves, sometimes other mages, men, women, elves, Qunari. Somehow, he controlled me through the markings. He just took my free will and replaced it with his own. I have the memories of everything I would do while he would wield me, but it wasn’t until he somehow turned it off that I would come to my senses and realize what I had done. It was the most disturbing thing, by far, that he did to me. The sex was for entertainment. But, the mind control and the killing, that was unbearable. I could never go back to it. I won’t. I’m afraid that when I face him he will be able to activate it before I get the chance to kill him. Which is why I sought you out in the first place.

Danarius wanted me to run, so that he could hunt me, torture me with the looming threat of being recaptured while I found solace in my temporary new-found liberation. The first place I found that took me in was a village of Fog Warriors. I stayed with them for several months before word of Danarius reached me. I slew them all in their sleep. I knew that if Danarius found me he’d take me back to that village and force me to kill them all. So, I spared them the fate of a tortuous death, and gave them mercy.”

He rested his hands on the mantle once again leaning into it. His tattoos flickered and dimmed. 

She could hear sadness in the way he breathed, see it in the movement of his shoulders. She wanted to go to him, wrap her arms around him, but she knew he wasn’t done. Not yet.

His voice was low and deep. She had to strain to listen.

“There’s one more thing, Hawke. The dreams. I’ve never had pleasant dreams. I’ve never had the fleeting satisfaction of dreaming that I was a free elf. I dreamt of killing Danarius. But, I would never be able to get out of his mansion. I was always trapped. I stopped dreaming of him shortly after arriving in Kirkwall.”

His tattoos flared now, as bright as she had ever seen them glow. He stifled a groan as he lit up the room, a central cyan sun. “All I dream about now is you . . . killing you. In some of the dreams it’s anger. Others it’s fear. The occasional jealousy. But, it’s always you now. I plunge my hand into your chest and rip out your heart.”

Well , she thought.  That was unexpected.

“I feel no remorse in the dream,” he continued. “I wake up terrified, always thinking how I would never do anything to hurt you. Then, I’m angry at myself. I don’t understand the dreams. I don’t know why they won’t stop.” He turned to her then, shaking, “I’d rather die, Scarlet. But, I’m afraid that one day Danarius will get hold of me again, discover my feelings for you, and use me to come after you.”

His eyes were helpless, begging for an easement to his troubles.

She didn’t know that she had one. But, she would try. “Fenris, it is a very real fear to have. I can see why you have it.” She slowly walked over to him, each step deliberate as she looked him in the eye. “Not a single thing I learned tonight made me want to be with you any less. I’m honored that you shared those things with me. I hope that it’s just the first step for us.”

“Us?” he asked, laying a hand on her cheek. “What about Anders?”

“I don’t love Anders.” She wasn’t ready to tell Fenris that she loved him. Not yet. What she waited for, she did not know.

“How can you still feel anything for me after what I told you?” He looked down as she took his other hand in hers and placed it on her chest. “I’m a monster.”

“I know in here that that isn’t true, and so do you. What about me? I’m a mage. Do you really believe that I’m not a monster?”

He wrapped a long, dark tendril of hair around his finger, and let it slide off into a momentary curl. “You are the first person to show me that not all mages are monsters.”

She latched onto his eyes with hers. “Fenris—”

His lips were on hers before she could finish. He swept her into his embrace and pushed her up against the wall next to the fireplace. The vases and bowls on the mantle clanked and bounced. A piece fell over, the glass breaking. She clung to his shoulders up on her tip-toes, wrapping her arms around them, pressing herself to his chest. She couldn’t get close enough to him.

“Come . . . upstairs . . . with me,” she said breathlessly into his ear.

He would not need another invitation. He pulled his face back from hers and nodded once, mouth agape. She took his hand and lead him through the house, biting her lip with a backwards glance every few steps. Before they got to the staircase he pulled her back, pressing her to him, his face buried into her neck, kissing what skin he could find through the curtain of her hair. She clutched the finial on top of the banister to hold herself upright, arching backwards, rubbing the cleft of her buttocks onto the hard length of him. His hands grabbed her hips as he pushed against her.

Then, his head popped up, looking behind them. Someone was whistling in the other room. 

His markings flared to life. She put a hand on his thigh and squeezed. “It’s only Bodahn. He must have heard the ruckus and came to check on it.”

Surely enough, the dwarf’s head appeared around the doorway, his eyes leaving them as quickly as they arrived. “Ooooh, nothing to see here. I’ll just grab the broom.” And he continued whistling his dwarven tune.

Fenris and Scarlet stood there, chests heaving, lips wet, eyes hungry. Their eyes met. They kissed briefly, and then continued their prolonged journey up the steps towards her room. With the door finally shut behind them he clawed at her robe. It fell from her shoulders into a puddle on the floor. She wore a thin silk nightdress underneath, the color of red wine, that barely covered her hips. Her smallclothes matched. His hands dove underneath the hem of the dress and lifted it over her head. Where it went after that they neither knew nor cared.

Her fingers fumbled with toggles and buckles on the front of the leather tunic he wore, while their lips were locked in a feverish embrace. Breaking away to see what she was doing, she watched the rise and fall of his chest as his breath heaved. Forcing herself to take deep breaths, her fingers deftly unfastened the last buckle. Pushing the leather aside, her fingertips skimmed over the skin of his chest for the first time, alighting his markings as she went. Each line glowed faintly white as her finger passed over it. His eyelids drooped to a close as his body relaxed under her touch. He swayed forward a bit, grabbing onto her hips to steady himself. She caught him, her hands splayed across his chest as he wavered. A smile spread across his face.

Standing on her tip-toes she ran her tongue across his bottom lip. His lips parted. She ran her tongue along the edge of his upper lip. He sucked it into his mouth, sliding his tongue against hers, running the tip along the roof of her mouth, sending shivers through her. His hands grabbed her shoulders, holding her up to him. Her hands were crushed between them against his chest. She snaked them around, under the leather of his vest, to trace the broad expanse of his back. But, she couldn’t reach his shoulders, impeded by the leather he still wore. So, she nudged the leather over his shoulders, and it fell down his arms to the floor.

He was magnificent. The planes of his chest and abdomen were flat and taut, outlined by those white lyrium tattoos on an olive skinned backdrop. She bit her lip and looked up to him. He was watching her, wanting her.

She spread her hands over his chest, ran her fingertips over his shoulders, down his arms, and back up again. She traced the tattoos down the centerline of his torso, and spread her hands across the well defined muscles of his abdomen. 

He watched her.

Her hands went to his narrow waist, traced the outline of his hip bones, and dipped below his waistband. As she undid the laces of his breeches his markings began to glow again, faintly blue, brightening as she eased the leather them from his hips, slowly freeing his turgid erection from its prison. His cock was long and thick in comparison to his slight elven build, and covered in tattoos just like the rest of him. She looked at it and pictured the ecstasy she would feel when taking him inside of her for the first time.

He stepped out of his pants and advanced on her, hands on her hips, pressing her backwards until the backs of her knees hit her mattress. With one hand in the center of her chest he pushed her down onto the mattress. Then, straddled her, wrapping an arm around her back and scooting her so that she lay entirely on the bed underneath him. He lowered himself to her and took her mouth with his. With his fingers he traced the lines of her ear, her neck, her collarbone, the length of her arm. His fingers intertwined with hers when he found her hand. He raised their arms over her head, found her other hand, and pulled that arm above her head as well. Taking both of her hands in one of his, he held her arms in place, stretched above them. With his free hand he ran his fingertips back down the length of her arm, over her ribcage, and cupped her breast. He squeezed it gently, running his thumb across the nipple, making it pucker in his grasp. He rolled it under his palm before continuing to exploring her body, running his hand down her belly, to the swell of her hip. 

He ran one finger under the edge of her small clothes as she bucked under him. She attempted to pull her wrists from his grasp, but he held his grip. His mouth went to her neck, nipping and sucking on its journey. His roaming hand grabbed onto her ass as his hips rocked with the motion of hers. Now, all that separated them was one thin scrap of silk. He could have easily swept her panties to the side and sheathed himself inside of her. He could feel her wetness had already seeping through. She was ready for him. But, he wasn’t ready for that. Not yet.

He took his mouth from hers, and trailed kisses from her ear, down her neck, across her shoulders to her breasts. There, he lavished attention upon her dark pink nipples, sucking on them, nipping them gently between his teeth as she squealed in delight. He was forced to relinquish his grip on her as he continued down her body. His lips passed over her slightly rounded belly, trailing down to the curve of her hips. He flicked his tongue along her hipbone, pressing kisses along the way. Then, repeated his ministrations to the other. He nuzzled the fabric of her panties with his nose until he found her wet center. He lapped at her through the silk, breathing heavily and slowly into her as his tongue teased her.

Her hips rocked back and forth, up and down, undulating under the attention of his mouth. The fabric was soaked through. With two of his fingers, he pressed the wet fabric against her clit in small circles, slowly at first. Then, he sped up his rhythm until her moaning and shuddering told him that she was nearing her release. He stayed his fingers, took the fabric in his teeth, and used his hands to help draw it down her legs. He threw the sodden scrap of silk on the floor. Taking one of her feet in his hands, as he sat back on his heels, he licked the sole of her foot from heel to toe while watching her writhe.

When he picked up the other foot, she looked down the bed at him. He met her eyes, holding them as he repeated the process, and flashed her a smile. The tip of his tongue trailed up the inside of her leg. He lifted her leg in the air, and ran his tongue over her calf, and across the sensitive skin behind her knee. Then, he lowered her leg to the bed as he nipped and licked his way up her inner thigh towards her mound. Stopping as he reached the crease of her leg, he lightly flicked his tongue across her swollen bud. Once. Twice. Then, he followed his trail back down to her foot. The other leg received the same treatment. 

He watched her fondle her breasts, pinching and twisting her nipples before her hand migrated to her small patch of dark curls. She separated her swollen wet lips with her fingers, and dipped one inside of herself. He sat back and watched for a moment. As her climax rose again, he snatched her hand in his, and pressed a kiss to her wet center, replacing her hand with his tongue. She writhed under him as he suckled on her clit, her hands tangled in his hair holding his mouth to her.

Again, he brought her to the brink of orgasm, flicking his tongue over her swollen bud, sucking it into his mouth. He lapped at her as she got wetter and wetter while his mouth explored every fold and crevice. She moaned, clutching at the covers beneath them. He dipped his tongue inside of her, grabbed handfuls of her thighs, and tasted her. Again, before she could reach her release he sat up, wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, and trailed kisses up her stomach, over her breasts, up her neck, and across her jaw on his way to her mouth.

Tasting herself on him made her want to taste him.

“My turn,” she said against his lips.

She pushed him up to a sitting position, extricated herself out from underneath him, and propped herself up on her elbows and knees. With her ass in the air, she bent over and took his hard cock into her mouth. His tattoos glowed even brighter as she reached the base, then slowly withdrew him from her mouth as she ran the tip of her tongue along the vein underneath. She flicked her tongue across the tip, then used it to trace the markings that ran the length of either side of his penis. The curlicues swirled over and under its length. She briefly thought how excruciating the tattoo process must have been for him.

That thought was forced out of her head when he groaned and thrust into her mouth, placing his palms lightly on her back, following her motion. She suckled and covered him in her warm breath. As she pulled back she blew gently across the wet skin, and sucked in as she took him deep into her mouth. Holding his cock up in one hand, she bent over further and ran her tongue across his perfectly hairless testicles, realizing at that moment that he didn’t have any body hair. She sucked one into her mouth, then the other, the tender skin rolling around on her tongue.

His fingers bit into her back and ribs as he clutched onto her. She cradled his balls in her hand, while licking up and down his shaft with her tongue. She circled around the head, taking it into her mouth just a couple of inches, then withdrawing it. Her tongue painted circles all along its length before taking the whole of him back into her mouth again. He reached down to tangle his fingers into her long dark hair, pulling it back away from her face. One of his hands balled it up in his fist tightly, while he laid the other on the back of her head, speeding her rhythm for a few moments before slowing her down again.

“Am I pulling too hard,” he asked, out of concern.

“No, not hard enough,” she said with a small squeak as he balled up her hair even tighter into his fist. “That’s better.”

He pushed her down to the mattress, tilting her head to the side so that her cheek lay pressed against the bed. Keeping her hair in his hand he positioned himself behind her. With his free hand he eased one finger into her. She was soaking wet. He put in another, pumping in and out of her. She began moaning and breathing heavily. He slid a third finger in, hooking them into the rough patch of skin inside of her where he knew he could send her over the edge quickly. He flicked back and forth across it, his fingers driving her to the brink of release before he stopped yet again. With his hand still he spread the moisture towards her asshole

“May I, just a finger?” he said, circling the opening?

“I’ve never had anyone do that before,” she admitted. “Go for it.”

“Just the tip then,” he assured her, making sure to have adequate lubrication for even just one digit. He spread one cheek to the side, grabbing it firmly in his hand, and eased a fingertip inside. 

“Is this alright?” he asked.

“Fuck, Fenris. Just pull my hair while you do it,” she ordered.

He gathered her hair in his free hand, squeezing at the base, pulling her head back towards him.

“Fenris, fuck me! Please? Fuck me,” she moaned and pleaded, as her hips gyrated in his hand. “I want to come with you inside me.”

That was all it took.

He rolled her over onto her back and pressed his chest to hers. Her nipples were hard, her breasts soft. Her eyelids were heavy, her mouth agape. She ran her hands down his back to his buttocks, arching under him. He took her mouth with his, and plunged himself into her wet, tight, sheath. They both let out simultaneous groans of ecstasy. 

His markings glowed so brightly that they lit the entirety of the dark room. 

She held him to her with all her strength. He couldn’t have moved yet if he wanted to. He felt her core pulsate around him, massaging his length.

“Uuuuuuuhhhhh,” she moaned into his mouth, steady against her own. 

She moved first, a small roll of her hips. He followed. Her body rippled in a wave beneath his. His answered. He felt her legs wrap around his as they opened, allowing him to reach even deeper into her.

His lips teased the edge of her ear as he moaned into it. Patiently, he withdrew from her, stopping when he reached the tip, and resheathed himself in the same manner. Lost in pleasure, she hummed, vibrating underneath of him. He did it again. It was as if she could purr. He raised himself onto his elbows, looking into her eyes. He trailed his fingertips down her leg, before grabbing it and lifting it up over his hip, to push into her even farther. She closed her eyes and sighed loudly. 

This time when he moved inside of her she squeaked. He smiled at her as she eagerly accepted his girth once again, her fingers digging into his backside.

“What’s that smile for?” she asked.

Her question made one corner of his mouth lift smugly. “I like the noises you make” he admitted, settling his weight back down onto her.

“I have three years of pent up noises for you,” she conceded.

With that addition of knowledge his pace quickened. Her groans became louder until she was screaming his name, clawing at his back, convulsing under his body. Finally, as he felt the tremors within her quake, he let go. His glowing tattoos flared white then blue with a brilliance she had never seen nor felt. It was as if she could hear them singing to her. His abdomen tightened against hers as he found his release. The muscles deep inside of her clenched around his hard length, milking him, holding him inside of her, sending them both over the edge into ecstasy neither had experienced before . She clung to him and he to her. 

  


  


Then, something unexpected happened. The deep recesses of his mind began to open. Bits and pieces of his old life started to come back to him in a flood of visions, the life before the markings.

As their bodies began to relax, he squeezed his arms between her and the mattress and gathered her into a tight embrace, one which she returned. He held it for a long time, not wanting to let her go, or face his new reality. He just wanted to hold her, for a few moments longer, one last time.

The blood returned to his head, and he rolled to the side.

She could sense something was wrong all of a sudden. “Fenris, what is it? Did I do something wrong?”

“No, I’m fine. It was fine,” he said as he stood and gathered his clothes. He pulled on his breeches then turned to her after he laced them up. “I’m sorry, Hawke. It was more than fine. It was . . . I never knew it could be . . . like that. So utterly perfect.”

“Fenris?”

He was beyond sad. “At the end . . . I started to have these visions . . . memories, of my life, before these cursed markings. I was somebody else entirely.” He pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead, then wiped his hands up and down his face, trying to erase the feeling.

“Fenris, do you want to sit down and tell me about it? About them?” she asked.

“For the first time, I don’t want to know.” He looked up at her then. “I don’t want to know any more, Hawke.”

She pulled the sheet up over her chest, tucking it in under hear arms, helpless. “Fenris—” she trailed off, not knowing what to say.

“No, not now. I have to go. I can’t do this. I’m sorry.” He finished getting dressed, walked to the door, and stopped with his hand on the doorknob. “Stay with Anders. Be happy.”

Then, he left.

  


  


  


She had never cried so hard in her life. Not when Father died. Not when Bethany died. Fenris leaving her was the worst feeling she had ever felt.

Moments before she was sharing the not only the best sex of her life with him, but the most intimate moments she had ever experienced with anyone. He had opened up and bared his soul to her. A future, a possibility of hope and promise was laid before her. 

Now all she had was the opposite of that: emptiness and insecurity, and a Fenris shaped hole in her life, and her heart.

She didn’t leave the house that next day, or the day after that, or the next one.


	4. What That Feels Like

Chapter 4: What That Feels Like

Year 4

  


  


It had been over a year since her one nearly perfect night with Fenris. Varric told her that he had returned to Kirkwall on a few occasions, always stopping at the Hanged Man to check in and catch up. He had been looking for information regarding his family. Apparently he did want to know more. She didn’t fault him for it: not for wanting to know about his past or his family, and not even for leaving her that night. She completely understood as a matter of fact. Her heart hadn’t been able to let go of him. She wanted him to find happiness, and the answers he sought. And deep in her heart, or perhaps not so deep, she still wanted him to find his way back to her.

She had continued her relationship with Anders. Not because Fenris told her to, but because she was too sad, too lonely, and too weak to break it off with him, or to tell him about Fenris.

The first time Hawke saw Fenris in over a year, he was sitting at the huge dwarven table in Varric’s quarters drinking, laughing, and smiling! 

Hawke had to look again to be sure it was him. He had let his hair grow longer. It fell in shaggy wisps onto his neck and over his ears. He tossed his head, flicking it out of his eyes when he saw her. It was the sexiest thing he could have done it that moment. She had always been able to tell when he would give that flick of his head the moment before he did it. Something in the way he carried his shoulders gave it away. Her heart nearly leapt out of her chest into his hand for him to do with as he pleased. 

Time stood still. She didn’t know what to do. Run to his arms? Cry? Leave? Surely she couldn’t talk at the moment. A simple “Hi” would have sufficed. But, her throat had closed up, dry and raw. 

His eyes caught hers. His smile faded, then returned, albeit much smaller. “It’s good to see you, Hawke.”

Was he back for me? No . 

He would have come straight to her if that were the case. He was here to catch up with Varric. That was all. 

Wait, did he say something to me?

“Fenris.” She hadn’t even spoken his name aloud since he left her that night. It still hurt too much. Every piece of her that loved him wanted to run to him, to touch him, to hug him, to kiss him, to tangle her fingers into his long hair, to say his name over and over again, and cry while he held her. Meanwhile, all the pieces of her that wanted to hate him sat here glaring at him through narrowed eyes with her arms crossed over her chest. She stood there, feet shoulder width apart, unmoving.

Varric cleared his throat. “Have a seat, Boss. The Elf here was just filling me in on what he’s learned about his family. I’m sure you’d love to hear about it, wouldn’t you?” Varric kicked out the chair across the table from Fenris. It screeched across the floor.

She took it. Varric waved, and a full mug appeared in front of her within moments. She was grateful to have something to do with her hands. She didn’t have the control over her voice to thank him at the moment. She could hear her heartbeat as if it had taken over for her eardrums. She cleared her throat and took a long drink of ale.

Fenris’ turn came to clear his throat. He waited a moment before speaking. “I found my sister. Her name is Varania. She’s an apprentice in Qarinus. I don’t know my mother’s name, and haven’t been able to track her down yet. But, it looks as though she may be in Qarinus also.”

“Wow. That’s a lot of new information for you. I’m sure it wasn’t easy, on several levels. It sounds like you are . . . doing very well these days.” She took another long drink from her ale. She had to work extra hard to hold in a cough. Varric’s dwarven ale was stout.

“So,” Varric began. “Why’d you come back to Kirkwall, Elf?”

“I missed the foliage, Dwarf?”

They both laughed, long and loud.

“You said something had triggered some memories right before you left. What was it?” Varric asked.

Fenris coughed on his ale now, and looked at Hawke. Their eyes met. His tattoos flared briefly, bright white, and faded just as quick. One eyebrow raised, and a familiar smirk played across his lips.

She took a deep breath.  Is he really looking at me like that? Oh, the eyebrow is unmistakable. He is. He’s flirting! Andraste’s flaming knickers!

“A dream, is all,” he lied.

“Weren’t you afraid of Danarius finding you while you were in Tevinter?” Hawke asked, indignant.

“I was hoping to lead him back here so you can help me take him out, actually,” Fenris admitted.

“That sounds like a brilliant plan, you broody bastard,” Varric quipped.

“Thanks, I thought so,” Fenris said, clinking his mug against Varric’s and taking a long swallow.

A holler came from the bar. “Boss! We’re getting kinda slammed down here! Can ya give us a hand?”

Hawke hadn’t noticed how loud the pub had gotten. It was late. But, for the patrons of the Hanged Man, it was drinking hour.

“Coming!” Varric yelled back. “I’ll send another round up this way,” he said to Fenris and Hawke before heading down to play barkeep.

She took a deep breath, steeling her reserve of courage to glance up at him. He was already looking at her. 

“Scarlet . . . I—” His voice trailed off when she glared at the use of her first name.

“I was ‘Hawke’ a moment ago,” she said, her eyes narrowed.

He got out of his chair, walked over to hers, and turned her to face him. The legs of her chair screeched on the unpolished wood floor. He crouched down so that he was at eye level with her and reached out to take her hand in his.

She snatched it away from him, slapping his hand.

“Scarlet, I’m sorry,” he said, hanging his head.

She wanted to press her lips to the top of his head, feel his long smooth hair run through her fingers, ask him if he was back for good. But, she didn’t. “I should leave.”

He stood and backed up a step. “If that’s what you want.”

“Oh, now it’s what  I want?” she raised her voice at him. 

“I deserve that.” He continued to stand in front of her, thankful he had managed to initiate the conversation he wanted to have.

“What you deserve is for me to make love to you on this table right now, then to walk out that door, and show up sometime next year. That’s what you deserve. Would you like to know what that feels like, Fenris?” She couldn’t look at him now, didn’t want to know what his face was saying.

“What if I said ‘Yes’?” He intentionally lowered his voice, making it especially husky.

She tried to stifle a laugh by covering her mouth, and failed. “Fuck you. Fuck you for learning to make a joke.”

He pulled a chair up in front of her and took a seat. “I learned a lot while I was gone. I was hoping to tell you about it.

“Why? So we can pick up where we left off? So, we can have another night of wild passion and you can leave again? Because I get it, Fenris. I really do. I understand why you left. I put myself in your shoes . . . you don’t wear shoes. Um, anyhow. What was I saying?”

“You understand?” he informed her.

“Right. Thank you. I do, understand that is. It was too much for you handle. You need to be free of Danarius and put that chapter of your life behind you, or find out if it’s even possible for you to do that, before you begin trying to learn if you can love someone. I don’t fault you for it. I’m not even angry with you. I never was, not really. But, that doesn’t mean it doesn’t still hurt as much as it did the moment you walked out on me . . . while I was naked.”

He reached out and took her hands in his, holding onto them tightly, so that she couldn’t slap him again. “I already know that I love you, Scarlet.”

Did he just say he loved me?  A tear escaped each eye. She squeezed them shut tightly, trying to staunch the flow. It had the opposite effect.

“Other than that you’re exactly right. I don’t expect you to wait around for me. But, I just need to know if you think there’s any chance, that after this is all over . . . should I give up on you? On us?”

“Fuck you again! Damn it, Fenris! Now you want to talk about ‘us’? ‘Us’ should have ended when you walked out the door that night!” She yelled in his face, and attempted to take her hands from his grasp.

He held tight. “What I heard you say was that it should have ended, but it didn’t.”

She tried taking her hands from him again. He released his grip. She dried the tears on her face, then met his eyes. “I’m the kind of person who never gives up on what I want.”

He sat up straight. “Neither do I. So where does that leave us?”

She rolled her eyes. “Why does this matter when you’re going to turn around and leave again?”

“Because I’m not leaving, not right away at least. I heard you’ve been having trouble with the Arishok and I came to help.”

“How are you going to help? Do you speak Qunari?”

“Yes.”

She shook her head in surprise. “You do?”

“Tevinter has been fighting off Qunari for a long time. It pays to know your enemies, or your potential allies in my case.”

“Thank you. I don’t know what else to do. Things are only getting worse. Tension builds every day, feels like it anyway.” She realized how at ease she had become around him in that moment. She shrugged her shoulders and leaned back in her chair.

He leaned forward, as if they were tied together, putting his elbows on his knees. “We can go pay him a visit tomorrow. If you’re not doing anything else, that is.” He showed her that smirk again.

It melted her. “Walk me home?” She couldn’t believe she had just asked him that. She practically invited him back into her bed, which she knew was a horrible idea, the fast track to getting her heart ripped out again. 

Huh, maybe that’s what his dreams were about? How many times would she open her heart to him, only to have him rip it out over and over again? It was his to rip out, until she decided to stop giving it to him. She wasn’t ready to do that yet. At this point it was still his. Beyond tomorrow morning, she couldn’t say.

  


  


They left the Hanged Man together, stopping to say “Goodnight” to Varric who was still having a grand ol’ time behind the bar. As Hawke turned around to wave to him one more time he winked at her and she narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips at him.

Varric shrugged.

When Hawke turned around Fenris was waiting for her at the door, holding it open. “Now you’re going to hold doors for me?” she asked incredulously, as she stood directly in front of him.

“Pick your battles Scarlet,” he said dropping the door.

She sighed quickly and shook her head, reaching for the door. 

It opened in towards her from the other side, nearly hitting her in the face. Fenris caught her as she stumbled backward into him. 

Anders held the door open for the pirate, Isabela, then followed her in to the bar. “Hey Varric,” he said waving to the dwarf. “You seen Hawke tonight?”

Varric caught a glimpse of Hawke, saw she was in Fenris’ arms, and tried to quickly divert his gaze. It was too late. Anders followed his line of sight and saw Hawke wrapped in Fenris’ arms behind the big front door to the tavern. 

The eyes of the spirit Justice that lived within Anders flashed blue. The voice boomed like thunder, “YOU!”

She could see as well as feel the lyrium tattoos glow. Fenris growled, low and deep in his chest.

The patrons of the Hanged Man scattered out from the space between the two men.

“Alright folks, time to call it a night! Down your beers quickly, don’t worry about closing your tabs tonight. I’ll see you tomorrow, all right?” Varric ushered everyone out quickly, in an orderly fashion.

Luckily Fenris and Anders had sense enough to keep their cool for the moment. Fenris, however, did not, could not release his grasp on Hawke.

“You’re still sleeping with him, aren’t you?” he whispered in her ear.

“You told me to!”

He made a very dwarven noise, something he must have inadvertently picked up from Varric, in the back of his throat. “Do you do everything I tell you?”

“You sound like my father.”

“He sounds like he was a sensible guy.”

“He was. Apparently, I didn’t get any of that from him.”

“Are you saying this isn’t sensible?” he asked.

“Jumping back into bed with you? Least sensible thing I’ve ever done,” she admitted.

“Who said anything about ‘jumping back into bed?’ And, should we be talking about this with your blue-eyed boyfriend over there looking at us with his demon eyes?” Fenris tried to avoid antagonizing Justice.

“You’re one to talk, ‘Tattoo boy.’ Just, don’t . . . I don’t even know what to tell you. Let me talk to him. Wait outside for me?” she whispered.

Isabela and Varric each had a hand on Anders’ shoulders and were talking to him in soft, soothing words. When Justice broke through the facade of Anders the situation tended to escalate quickly. Spirits were not known for their temperance.

“Please?” she asked Fenris.

“Sure. For now,” he said, his eyes shooting daggers at Anders.

She wanted to walk over to Anders with her hands up in front of her, but she knew that Justice hated to be placated. Instead, she walked up to him, fixed the fur of his collar, and laid a hand on his chest. “Anders, honey. Can you talk to me please?”

“What’s he doing here?” The voice of Justice echoed off the smoke-stained walls of the Hanged Man. Anders had merged with a spirit of Justice years ago after spending time with the Hero of Ferelden. He insisted they were one being now. But, it was hard to remember that when blue light seeped through usually invisible cracks in his skin and his voice sounded like that of the Maker himself.

“He’s familiar with Qunari, and speaks their language. He’s here to help us negotiate with the Arishok on behalf of the Viscount,” Hawke explained succinctly.

“I can feel him on you. You ooze him from every pore in your body!” Justice proclaimed.

Varric managed to slip outside to check on Fenris while Hawke questioned Justice.

“It’s late. He was going to see me home safely. And he wanted to say ‘hello’ to Mother.”

“Your Mother should be asleep at this hour.”

“Try telling her that. She always waits up for me. You know that! You see her almost every night.”

Justice subsided. The blue light waned. Anders appeared seamlessly in his wake. He stood before her, a forced smile on his face. His golden blonde hair was pulled back into a tidy ponytail. He ran his hand over his head, smoothing out any strays.

“How about I walk you home then?” Anders took her by the shoulders, and bent to place a chaste kiss on her lips. 

Isabela spoke up. “But, Anders! You and I were supposed to have a couple of shots of the Hanged Man’s finest in celebration of your new partnership with that dwarven lyrium merchant! You promised!”

“So I did. Raincheck? Tomorrow night perhaps?”

“Tomorrow night I have a game of Wicked Grace to rig. You know how much you hate watching me cheat at cards,” she whined, winking at Hawke.

“Very well. We’ll stay. I’ll be over late then Hawke, darling?” Anders said, the veneer of a smile still plastered on his face.

“I’m heading straight to bed. We’ll be leaving first thing in the morning to go get an appointment with the Arishok, otherwise we’ll have to wait another day. You know that you two don’t do well in such close proximity. So, let’s just wait, and I will see you tomorrow evening, all right?”

Anders face drooped. “Of course. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He leaned in to kiss her.

Hawke hesitated. Isabela, with her lightning quick reflexes pushed Hawke in towards Anders. Anders wrapped his arms around her as she fell into his chest and deepened the kiss. Hawke complied as well as she could being thrown off balance into a kiss she was trying to avoid.

She smiled up at him. “Goodnight, Honey.”

He smiled at her, and gave her a peck on the cheek. “Goodnight, Darling.”

  


  


Thankfully, Varric had already ushered Fenris across the street, where he stood clenching and unclenching his fists surrounded in a luminescent blue haze.

When Hawke joined them outside, Varric waved her over. “Look, you two know how I feel about . . . you two. Just be careful. Don’t get dead. And don’t run into Anders again. Especially if you can’t keep your hands off each other in public.”

“Varric,” Hawke started.

He turned to Fenris, whose tattoos had begun to fade. “Get her home.”

Fenris held his hand out to her. “Walk with me?”

She took his hand. 

His tattoos flashed, so did that smirk, and one eyebrow.

On the way back to her estate they were relatively silent through Lowtown, the most dangerous area of Kirkwall at this time of night. It was patrolled by the City Guard, and Fenris and Hawke were both capable of defending themselves against any of the regular attackers. But, they didn’t want to be caught off guard if that should happen. Once they hit Hightown they both relaxed a bit.

“Tell your Mother, and Bodahn and Sandal that I’ll be by in the morning to say ‘Hi’ to everyone,” Fenris said to her.

She stopped and turned to face him, taking his other hand in hers. “After all of that do I still need to invite you to stay the night with me?”

“Afraid so. I don’t want to make assumptions,” he said backing her up to the wall, taking a handful of hair in his fist, tilting her face up to his.

She gasped in delight. “Neither do I. So, let’s lay it out now. You’re going to come back to my place tonight. We’re going to—” her voice trailed off as he stepped into her.

“Have some more earth-shattering sex?” he said, sliding a hand down her backside, cupping a buttock.

She took a deep breath, as she let him pull her into his semi-hard erection. “And you’re going to stay the night this time. And be there in the morning to greet my family. Then, we’re going to visit the Arishok.”

He lifted her onto her tiptoes, pressing her harder against the wall, in the shadows of a storage area. He kissed her, wrapping her in his arms. She melded into his body, into his mouth.

She tilted her chin away as he trailed kisses to her earlobe and down her neck. 

“Fenris, what about your memories?” 

“I haven’t had any more. And I’ve tried. When I finally realized I wanted to get them back, I couldn’t.”

“So you’ve . . . been with other people then? And nothing happened?”

“No, I haven’t been with anyone else. I tried using meditation.” He pulled back and locked eyes with her, his face only inches away. “There’s just you, only you, Scarlet. There’s no one for me after you. You’re it for me. Yes, I hope to get some more memories back. But, that’s not what this is about. Not at all.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry about Anders.”

“Don’t. Don’t apologize for doing what you have to do to get through. We all do it.”

“And you’re going to leave again. Sometime after this? You’re going to go try to lure Danarius here.”

“I’ll come back eventually. I’ll always return for you,” he promised.


	5. Quiet.  Too Quiet.

Chapter 5: Quiet. Too Quiet

Year 5

  


  


While Fenris was in Kirkwall for those few, precious weeks he spent every night in her bed. They awoke, bodies sated, naked and entangled in a mess of sheets only to come together again before facing the day. He had told her that with each release more memories returned to him, giving him glimpses into his past. Snippets of two different women commonly appeared to him. He surmised that they were his mother and his sister, which was slightly disturbing to experience during sex. Some places also worked into his visions. He tried not to push his old life away as soon as it came flooding back to him, but it was hard. He wanted to exist in the here and now with Scarlet. Inviting his old life back in seemed to contradict that though.

She assured Fenris that he should return to Tevinter and use the new information to find his family. With quite a bit of encouragement from her he finally decided to head back towards Qarinus to seek out his mother and sister. 

Once Fenris had left, Hawke knew that she couldn’t lie to Anders any longer. She came home one evening to find him in the sitting room talking to her Mother. Leandra quickly excused herself, kissing her daughter on the forehead before retiring to her room. 

Anders either already knew what lie between her and Fenris, or was enlightened by Varric and/or Isabela at the Hanged Man that night. He didn’t seek her out until after Fenris had been gone for several days.

Sitting across from him, all she could think of were the heated, sleepless nights Fenris had given her. Anders and her had spent many nights in her room together over the years, more than she could count. However, it was as if her time with Anders had never existed. For her, there was only room for Fenris in her heart. 

Every kiss, every touch of Fenris’ hand still lingered, burning her skin, her memory. Living the lie with Anders was something she could no longer continue.

Anders left quietly that evening. 

Alone in her bed, she found her warm, wet center with her hand and revisited a minuscule amount of the pleasure Fenris had given her.

  


  


Before his departure, Fenris was instrumental in helping Hawke negotiate peacefully with the Arishok, leader of the Qunari, a peace that didn’t last long. The race of the horned giants were notoriously quick tempered. Tensions continued to rise as more altercations took place between the Qunari and different factions in Kirkwall. The city guard, a sister in the Chantry, and a rogue dwarf from the Merchant’s Guild all needed Hawke’s help in brokering deals peacefully with the Arishok over the next several months. But, it was almost a year after Fenris left before war broke out all over Kirkwall in the middle of the night.

Hawke, Varric, Merrill, Aveline, Isabela, and Anders made their way throughout Lowtown rescuing civilians, dispatching Coterie thugs, and herding Qunari raiders towards Hightown where the Arishok had rounded up the Kirkwall nobility into the Viscount’s Keep. Once in Hightown they met with Knight-Commander Meredith and First Enchanter Orsino who were having an Orlesian stand-off in the gallows courtyard. 

Carver, who had joined the Templar Order while Hawke was in the Deep Roads years ago, stood with another templar several yards away from Meredith and Orsino. Hawke approached her brother, giving him a smile.

“Don’t worry Knight-Captain, that’s just my sister. She’s not a danger, not to us anyhow,” Carver assured him.

The Knight-Captain let down his guard ever so slightly. 

Hawke and Carver embraced, kissing on the cheek briefly. “Brother,” she said.

“Sister, nice to see you. Not a surprise though,” Carver quipped. “This is Knight-Captain Cullen. Knight-Captain, this is my sister, Scarlet, who everyone has taken to calling ‘Hawke’ as if she’s the only Hawke in Kirkwall.”

Hawke and the Knight-Captain greeted each other as warriors do, forearm to forearm. He nodded to her. “You look as if you have brought reinforcements.”

“I never leave home without them,” she joked.

Aveline, who had accepted the position of Captain of the City Guard stepped forward. “Knight-Captain Cullen, have you seen my men?”

Cullen shook his head. “Sadly, a great many of them were killed in Lowtown. The Qunari numbers easily overtook them. The rest are with my templars between us and the entrance to the keep holding off any advance the Qunari might make.”

Hawke laid a reassuring hand on Aveline’s arm. “Donnic was patrolling Hightown tonight, wasn’t he?”

“Yes,” Aveline took a deep sigh of relief. “He’s fine. I’m sure of it.”

“What’s the plan, Knight-Captain?” Hawke asked.

“Well, we were planning on regrouping with the templars and guardsmen, but the Knight-Commander encountered the First Enchanter on our way, sent the men forward and we’ve been here ever since,” Cullen answered. “I don’t suppose you’re brave enough to mediate?”

“I’ve almost died three times today. I’ve got nothing to lose,” Hawke said.

“You’re welcome,” Varric shouted to her back as she approached the feuding faction leaders.

  


After a surprisingly short amount of deliberation time, Orsino and Meredith both agreed to follow Hawke’s lead since neither could agree on a course of action. 

“Orsino’s mages will cover the advancement of the templars and guardsmen who will be able to force the retreat of the Qunari forces with the reinforcement of the mages. As we are able to advance, my team will infiltrate the keep and either negotiate the Arishok’s unlikely surrender, or end his occupation of Kirkwall once and for all.”

“Hawke, your plan is just as unlikely if you ask me. However, I do not see another course of action being any more successful,” Meredith commented.

“I’ll take that as a compliment, Knight-Commander,” Hawke said, graciously.

“As you will,” Meredith retorted. 

“The mages at your backs will not falter, Hawke. I will see to it,” Orsino promised.

“Thank you, First Enchanter.”

Aveline asked Cullen to inform her guards that Donnic was in charge, and that they were to work side-by-side with the templars for the rest of the assault. He thanked her, and he and Carver ran up the steps towards Viscount’s Keep with Meredith. 

“Don’t die, Sister,” Carver called out behind him. 

“Same goes for you, Brother,” Hawke replied.

Orsino took only a moment to confer with the mages before they gathered around Hawke and her companions. They followed close behind as Hawke and her companions pressed into the confrontation ahead of them. Once the mages arrived, the Qunari were indeed forced to retreat as the Templars and guards pressed forward with their new-found ranged assault. 

One group of Qunari began to slowly retreat into the safety of the Keep as a small force defended the door. With their attention split Hawke’s team was able to find the sliver of time they needed to gain their entrance. Hawke was the last to enter, making sure that each of her team members was accounted for. As she turned to briefly survey the battle behind them before closing the door behind her she found herself face-to-face with Fenris.

He leaned in briefly to kiss her firmly on the mouth. Then pushed her into the building as he closed the door behind them.

The Qunari wasted no time in beginning their assault. Aveline and Fenris pressed to the front where they held the Qunari coming down the stairs. Varric and Isabela took cover behind a large pillar, where she could defend him while he picked off the ranged Qunari attackers. Hawke, Anders, and Merrill worked in close confines, protecting the party with their magics, while deciding how to take out the Saarebas, the powerful Qunari mages.

Varric’s excellent aim made quick work of most of the archers. Anders defenses allowed Hawke and Merrill to use their offensive spells to the fullest extent taking out the Saarebas who were untrained and often erratic. They were able to work their way forward, aiding Aveline and Fenris. Several Qunari warriors escaped, retreating into the Viscount’s throne room where the Arishok was surely holding the nobles, with no small force.

The team regrouped outside of the closed door to the antechamber.

“There are going to be more of them in there than there were out here,” Aveline stated, through labored breaths.

Hawke spoke up. “Anders, Merrill, Isabela will you watch the door, please? Varric, Aveline, Fenris, let’s work out a plan for going through that door.”

She looked at Aveline. “I’d like to save as many Kirkwallers as possible, but I don’t know that we can do that and handle all of the Qunari on the other side of that door.”

“I agree. I’m almost certain the Viscount is already dead. He’s the only one that would really matter at this point though, sad to say,” Aveline pointed out.

“The Arishok will not attack, he’ll negotiate first with Hawke, since she is Basalit-an,” Fenris informed them.

Hawke turned to Fenris, meeting his impossibly green eyes. “You’re sure?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said meeting hers. “We won’t walk into a firefight like we did here. But, we’ve all been in that throne room before. They will surround us with higher ground, much higher. They’ll have a huge advantage if it comes to blows in there.”

“And from the numbers of Qunari we saw in the streets, and out front, it’s going to be packed full of them,” Varric said.

“So we try to negotiate,” said Aveline.

“What do we have to negotiate with?” Hawke asked. “We’re not even sure what it is he wants. All we’ve gathered is that since he’s still here he wants to convert us all to the Qun and sit on the Viscount’s throne. He’s already doing at least half of that.”

Isabela stepped forward. “I know what he wants.” She handed a book to Hawke.

“What’s this?”

“It’s the Tome of Koslun.”

Fenris’ tattoos glowed. He stood nose-to-nose with her. “You’ve had this the whole time?”

“No, not the whole time. I acquired in Lowtown not long ago. I wanted to sell it to the highest bidder, I admit. But, I thought she might need it,” Isabela said, unflinching. “. . . more than I need the money.”

Hawke stepped between them, taking the book. “I’ll make it up to you. I promise.” She smiled at Isabela then.  Pirates did have some honor.

Isabela smiled in return. “I know you will. I’ll take one ship, please.”

“Coming right up,” Hawke said.

“Fenris is right,” Isabela assured them. “He’ll negotiate first. Giving him the book might assure it won’t come to blows quickly. But, it won’t get him to leave at this point. He’s so close. He’s going to want to keep the throne. I agree.”

Varric asked the question no one else wanted to ask. “So how do we get him to leave without getting us all killed?” 

“Leave that to me,” Fenris said.

“Well, are you going to tell us then, Elf?” Varric wondered?

“No, Dwarf. I’m not,” Fenris answered. He looked to Hawke, letting his eyes roam over her body as she approached him.

She stood there, begging him with her eyes. He shook his head “No.” She reached out, squeezed his hand, and he squeezed hers.

  


Fenris and Hawke strode through the door to the antechamber. It was empty. As they crossed the long room they all listened for noise from the throne room. Even Fenris didn’t pick up anything. It was quiet. Too quiet.

They stood on the other side of the door, facing each other in a Circle for what could be the last time. Hawke reached out taking the hands of Fenris and Varric to either side of her. They all stood, holding hands with each other, lending one last buttress of support to the team they had built over the last five years.

“We’re in this together, at least one more time,” Hawke began. “You have each earned your place on this team, and in my life. Thank you for being my friends.”

“You’re welcome, Hawke,” Aveline said. “Let’s do this.” She turned and opened the door.

  


The Arishok already sat on the throne of the Viscount. The Viscount’s head adorned one of the finials atop the back of the throne, his prostrate body laid before the Arishok’s feet. The rest of the nobles were alive, and corralled into a corner on the first landing. Qunari archers and Saarebas lined the banisters of the second landing. A guard stood to either side of the Arishok, and several guards lined the long staircase that lead up to the throne.

“Hawke, you have gallantly made your way into my Keep. What do you bring before me now?” the Arishok asked, glaring at her from his perch. He had two sets of horns atop his grey-skinned head, both curled backwards, the top set curling upwards as well.

She held the heavy book above her head in two hands. “The Tome of Koslun. I present it as a gift to you. And ask that you take it and leave Kirkwall.”

The Arishok motioned to a guard who descended the steps to take the book from Hawke. The Arishok turned the book in his hands once and handed it back to the guard who passed it off to another Qunari.

“No.” His voice seemed understated for the severity of the situation. He was not afraid.

“May I ask what keeps you here, now that you have the tome?” Hawke tried to keep from showing the fear in her voice. Now that they were in the throne room she could see that they stood little chance of walking out of there alive. The Qunari were too numerous and indeed held a huge advantage over them from the height of the landings.

“Yes.” 

Well, he answered her question. “What is it you desire with your continued presence in Kirkwall, then?” She hoped the phrasing of the question was sufficient since he seemed willing to answer.

“This city needs to be cleansed; submit to the Qun. Those who do not submit will die.”

Ah, at least they were right.

Fenris stepped forward then. “Shok ebasit hissra. Meraad astaarit, meraad itwasit, aban aqun. Maraas shokra. Anaan esaam Qun.”

The Arishok rose. “Maraas toh ebra-shok.”

Fenris took another step forward. “As Basalit-an Hawke would like to request that you grant her the honor of settling this matter with single combat. When she wins, the Qunari leave Kirkwall immediately.”

Hawke tried to keep her face from showing her surprise but knew she failed.

The Arishok rose, accepting his battle axe and forked Qunari broadsword from his guards. “When I win Kirkwall will submit to the Qun or die.”

Hawke stepped forward, laying her hand on Fenris’ shoulder. He put his hand behind him, pushing her away and drawing his great sword. “I will Champion Hawke.”

“Fenris!” Hawke exclaimed.

“You are now also Basalit-an and worthy of the trial,” the Arishok declared.

Varric came forward, grabbing Hawke sharply by the shoulders to move her to the side. When the Arishok reached the floor, Varric and the others pulled her with them onto the stair case. Hawke trembled from head to toe. Her face was pale, her hands balled into white-knuckled fists. Varric kept a hand on her back, ready to grab her by her belt in case she decided to dart onto the field of battle. 

“Fenris knew what he was getting into,” Varric whispered to her. “Let him stand with honor.”

Hawke nodded.

The Arishok waved both weapons at Fenris clearing the space in front of him. Hawke could see that even with his shorter weapons, his height gave him equal reach to the length of Fenris’ long two-handed great sword. Fenris dropped into a defensive stance. The Arishok stalked him in a full circle, then rushed him suddenly. Fenris dodged the bull-rush, which he had obviously anticipated. The Arishok slashed with both weapons. Fenris feinted to one side, then the other. This gave him time to slash at the Arishok, cutting his tabard into two thin strips.

The Arishok rushed at Fenris again, this time with both weapons en garde. Fenris circled around the Arishok, cutting through one shoulder strap of the Arishok’s baldric. A thin smear of blood welled up on the Arishok’s back. He whipped the axe at Fenris’ mid-section. Fenris dodged, but had to throw his head forward to catch his balance. The Arishok caught him in the temple with the bottom portion of the broadsword, which was thankfully not sharp. The blow still knocked Fenris to the side, and blood poured down his face.

Fenris ran to catch himself and the Arishok followed with another bull-rush, catching Fenris in the side and pinned him to the wall. Fenris wielded the gigantic blade one-handed, which Hawke had seen him do on many occasions, and crushed the pommel into the Arishok’s wounded shoulder. Blood spurt forth as the wound widened. The Arishok dropped his sword and rammed one fist into Fenris’ kidney several times. His tattoos began to glow dimly.

The Arishok took a step backwards, expecting Fenris to slump to the ground. When he instead stood and faced him, the Arishok swung his sword down with all his might. Fenris blocked the blow, now wielding his blade with two hands, caught the sword, and knocked it to the side with his hilt. He swung the sword around his head, bringing it down towards the Arishok’s empty hand. The Arishok dodged to the side, striking out with his sword which Fenris blocked.

Fenris was forced to begin a hasty retreat as the Arishok advanced on him with quick blows now that he was only wielding one weapon. He lunged at the side opposite the hand in which the Arishok held his sword, slicing through the other strap of the baldric which fell across the Arishok’s arms. He took a moment to remove the useless leather scraps, giving Fenris the chance to attack again, with a diagonal swipe upwards. The Arishok took a step backwards, getting thrown off balance. Fenris again used the opening to his advantage cutting across the belly of his opponent who continued to retreat.

The Qunari began to taunt, and cheer for their leader now. Hawke’s teammates joined their voices to the chorus.

“Get him, Fenris!” yelled Isabela.

“You got this, Elf,” cheered Varric.

“That’s it! “Encouraged Aveline.

Merrill reached over and took Hawke’s hand in hers. Anders stood behind her, his arms crossed over his chest.

Blood now trickled down the Arishok’s stomach and his back. Fenris wiped blood out of his eye with the back of his hand as his opponent regained his footing. 

Then, the Arishok charged. Fenris dodged the blow, sweeping a wide arc with his sword as he went, catching the Arishok in the arm. The Arishok charged again, this time correctly anticipating which way Fenris would go, and caught the great sword, trying to rip it from the hands of the elf. Fenris hung on, but was thrown through the air, landing against the wall a good eight feet up, then fell to the ground in a heap. It took the Arishok a moment to slow down from all the momentum he had built up. By the time he was again facing Fenris, the elf had gotten to his feet and was en garde. This time, when the Arishok charged, Fenris caught him and slammed his head into the wall. 

Unfortunately, the big Qunari was largely protected by his horns, thus stood and turned unfazed. He grabbed the elf by his throat and lifted him into the air. Fenris still held his sword in one hand, but that arm dangled at his side as his legs kicked ineffectively. The sword clattered to the ground. As Fenris’ feet began to still the Qunari dropped him next to his sword. 

Fenris coughed violently and rolled to his side grabbing blindly for his sword. The Arishok raised his weapon high above his head in two hands.

Hawke squeezed Merrill’s hand. Merrill winced. “Varric?” Hawke whispered.

Varric grabbed her other hand. He wanted to reach for his crossbow, to put a bolt right between the Arishok’s eyebrows. But, he knew if he did that that none of them would walk out of here alive. He trusted that the elf knew what he was doing, even though things didn’t look so great right now. 

The Arishok felt the thrill of victory too early. As he brought down his sword for what he thought was the killing blow, Fenris rolled to the side, swept out the Arishok’s feet from underneath of him, and was on his feet in an instant putting plenty of room between him and the Qunari. Fenris pressed one hand against a wall, gasping for air. The Qunari charged again. This time Fenris narrowly dodged the attack, and as he spun away, his plunged his sword into the belly of the Arishok, sinking in deep right below the sternum.

The Arishok dropped to his knees, sword still in hand. As he fell, Fenris bent to pull out his blade. The Arishok jerked his arm upwards, sending his remaining sword slicing through Fenris’ thigh. The Qunari tumbled, holding his stomach, making gurgling, gasping noises. Fenris leaned his back against the wall, grabbing his thigh in one hand, leaning on his sword with the other.

Hawke leaned forward. Varric held her back. Hours seemed to pass.

The sounds from the Arishok stopped and the big Qunari went limp. The nobles cheered. 

Hawke ran to Fenris who slid down the wall, crumpling onto the floor. His leg was soaked with blood, blood that had pooled where he was standing. She grabbed his thigh, putting pressure on the wound, trying to staunch the flow. Varric stood behind her, a hand on her shoulder.

Fenris’ face had gone white. His eyes were half-lidded. She put her face in front of his. “Fenris. Fenris! Look at me!”

Isabela knelt behind his head, pressing her headscarf to the wound at his temple, wiping the blood from his eye with the tails of it. “Fenris, stay with us. Talk to Hawke. You won. You did it.”

Merrill knelt next to him and laid her hands on his chest. She looked up at Hawke and shook her head. “There’s nothing I can do. All of the healing power I know comes from blood magic. And he’s lost so much blood. There would be too much danger for something to go wrong, Hawke.”

Varric made a tourniquet with his belt and placed it above Hawke’s hands, then nudged her aside and took over the duty of minding the elf’s leg. “Talk to him, Hawke.”

Hawke moved to the other side of Varric, kneeling next to Fenris, holding his face in her hands, pressing her lips to his. “Fenris, stay with me.”

His eyes fluttered open and he looked at her then. “Can’t. Time for me to be free.”

“No! Fenris, we still have to kill Danarius. We haven’t done that yet. You can’t go. I love you.” Hawke wiped at the blood on his cheek with her thumb.

“Doesn’t matter now. Love you, Scarlet,” he said reaching up to cup her cheek.

Tears streamed down her face. She couldn’t see him clearly any longer, but couldn’t let go of him to wipe her eyes. “No! Fenris! Don’t leave me.”

His hand fell away from face. She heard his arm land with a ‘thud’ atop his chest.

“Stay! Fenris.” She pressed her lips to his. “I-love-you,” she said through wracking sobs.

Aveline came and touched each teammate on the shoulder. One-by-one they stood and took several steps away to leave Hawke alone with Fenris during their final moments together.

Anders came and knelt next to Fenris. opposite Hawke. He laid both of his hands on Fenris’ chest and began chanting. Fenris and Anders both glowed with blue light. 

Hawke looked up at Anders briefly, in astonishment. His eyes were closed. He had tear streaks on his face. She looked back down at Fenris. His breathing had gotten so slow and shallow, she wasn’t sure if he would draw another breath. She put both hands on his chest and began to chant with Anders, learning the ancient words through repetition, not understanding their meaning. She had gone through the chant with Anders more times than she could count now. Fenris drew breath no longer. She closed her eyes and continued saying the words.

Anders swayed. Merrill knelt next to him, placed her hands on Fenris and began chanting along with them. The light grew brighter and bigger until it enveloped the three mages and Fenris. Hawke opened her eyes to see that Fenris’ tattoos were all glowing as bright as she had ever seen them, and they continued to intensify. Blue smoke began to emanate from their hands. Anders’ and Merrill both grunted in pain and shock, and ripped their hands away from Fenris. Hawke gritted her teeth against the pain and continued chanting.

The other two mages helped each other off the floor and stepped back out of the ball of light which continued to grow. Hawke’s body also began to glow with the light of the tattoos now. The light was so bright that she had to keep her eyes closed. When the feeling running through her changed from one of pain to a humming vibrations, she opened her eyes.

Fenris was looking at her, his green eyes wide and full of emotion. Her voice faltered then, and she collapsed onto his chest, sobbing. He gathered her into his arms, holding her to him as she wept.

  


The remaining Qunari gathered their fallen leader and filed out of the room. Aveline went to speak to the nobles.

Merrill hugged Anders. “That was very good of you.”

Varric patted him on the back. “Thanks, Blondie.”

Isabela took his hand and looked at Merrill. “Let’s walk him home.”

Merrill nodded. Anders took one last look at Hawke and let them lead him away.

After everyone else had left the room, Varric knelt next to Fenris across from Hawke. “Nice to see you’re taking breaths again, Elf.”

Hawke sat up, not taking her eyes from Fenris. He reached out and put a hand on Varric’s knee, glancing at him. “I have a feeling a missed a few.”

“Anders brought you back, with some help from Hawke, and Merrill as it turns out. Took a whole team. You tried real hard to die on us,” Varric said with a hitch in his voice.

“Anders did?” Fenris asked.

Varric nodded.

Hawke wiped her eyes. 

Fenris started to sit up and groaned. Varric and Hawke each put a hand behind his back to help him. He put his arms around Hawke and clutched her to his chest. He pressed a kiss to her lips. “I love you.”

They helped him to his feet. Varric put his belt back on. Hawke bent and picked up Fenris’ sword, grunting at its full weight. Fenris took it from her, bearing the weight of it easily, though he did limp on his wounded leg. 

“I guess there’s only so much healing three mages can do for one dead elf?” he said.


	6. Looking For

Chapter 6: Looking For

Years 6-8

  


  


Meredith declared Hawke the “Champion of Kirkwall” and for a while there was an overwhelming peace in Kirkwall between the mages and templars. Even as Meredith tightened restrictions on the activities of the mages, and started to hunt down apostates and blood mages, Kirkwall remained compliant in the beginning. But, Hawke was an apostate herself, with two other apostate mages on her team, one of them a blood mage. The sense of serenity would not last.

A few months went by and Kirkwall began to feel almost normal, whatever that meant. Aveline said the city guard had a fairly safe patrol routine, and had recruited and trained a large host of new guards. Varric’s business remained lucrative. Kirkwall never had a shortage of drinkers. Merrill continued researching Elvhen culture. Isabela found new ways to hound Hawke to help her buy a ship. Anders stayed underground in his clinic in Darktown for the most part. Carver excelled in his life as a templar. 

Fenris and Hawke reveled in spending as much time as possible together. It was no secret that this was the main thing keeping Anders in Darktown. But, Isabela and Varric were not strangers to Darktown and assured Hawke that Anders was just fine.

Nearly a year went past in the blink of an eye as tensions between the mages and templars slowly rose to the boiling point. Apostates and blood mages were being actively hunted by Meredith. Hawke found herself dealing with the charming, curly blonde haired Knight-Captain Cullen on a regular basis now, as Meredith had him call upon her whenever they needed a hand. When it started Hawke went to First Enchanter Orsino for advice, who encouraged her to work with Meredith for the sake of the mages. 

Some mages she turned in to the templars, others she returned to Orsino, some had their fates handed to them by Hawke, and a precious few were let go. Every decision was hard for Hawke. Each decision that she made weighed on her mind and her spirit daily. Fenris didn’t make things any easier. He often disagreed with her decisions. They began fighting. He didn’t come to her bed every night any longer.

Anders got word and started finding Hawke at mealtimes, and for late night fireside chats once again. He would take tea with Leandra, and walk her to the market. Occasionally he and Fenris would cross paths, much more cordially than before, but still with a glare of jealousy in their eyes.

  


  


Hawke had spent the day with Varric, tracking down a lead on the red lyrium they had found in the darkest reaches of the Deep Roads, thanks to Bartrand’s treachery. They spent the day vanquishing demons and spirits called into a house in Hightown by the remaining energy of the red lyrium that had been housed there and stolen a few days prior. She arrived home late that night to a household that had already retired, to no surprise.

But, when she opened the door to her room, Fenris sat on her bed, his head in his hands. She sat next to him, laid a hand on his back, and propped her chin on his shoulder, placing a kiss on his cheek. “I’ve missed you.”

He turned to her, his eyes wet and threatening to spill over. “I’m sorry, Hawke.”

“Fenris, I forgive you. I’m sorry too. I wish Meredith and Orsino would just go after these mages on their own. But, Orsino is afraid of Meredith and the public, and Meredith is trying to be the Viscount, so she doesn’t have time to do it herself. I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but I think we need more templars! I bet you never—”

Fenris put his hand on her thigh. “I have to leave again.”

She stood and walked to the fireplace, resting her hands on the mantle the way he so often did. “Yeah, I should have known that was coming. I suppose it’s easier to do now that we . . . we’re not as close as we used to be.”

He came up behind her, pulling her against him, wrapping both of their arms around her body. He buried his nose against her neck, and rooted through her long hair until he found skin with his lips, pressing a kiss to it. “It will never be easy or get easier for me to leave you. And, just because we’ve spent less time together as of late, does not mean that we’re any less close than before. I’m always going to love you. And I’m always going to come back to you if you will keep taking in my worthless hide.”

She turned in his arms to face him, and locked her green gaze with his. “You are worth the world to me. We’re both still figuring this out is all. A wise elf once told me ‘Don’t apologize for doing what you have to do to get through.’ I know he meant it. He should listen to himself.”

He kissed her then, long and soft, his fingers melding to the back of her head. Her body unfolded against his, welcoming him into her. He pulled away from her lips without breaking their embrace. 

“I’ll be leaving in the morning, Scarlet. I won’t return until I’m sure that Danarius has followed me. I’ll try to send word to you, so that you know how I am, and so that you’ll be ready for him.”

She pushed him down onto the bed, straddling his thighs. “I’m going to spend every minute between now and morning with you naked and beside me.”

  


Downstairs the next morning, Fenris kissed Leandra on the cheek as she took her morning tea, telling her to keep an eye on her daughter until he returned. She gave him a knowing glance.

At the door, he prepared to properly say “goodbye” to Hawke for the first time. He could feel his heartbeat in every bone of his body. It was as if he could see his ribs pulsate in time with it. His stomach lurched as he turned to face her. She was radiant this morning. 

He had watched her brush her hair before she had gotten dressed. The ends flipped up with every stroke, reflecting the violet and crimson highlights in the early rays of dawn streaming through the stained glass window. Her breasts bounced gently when her arm raised, following the strands down toward the curves of her waist. He knelt before her as she sat there at her vanity, and worshiped her body with his lips, taking her one more time before they got dressed.

There at the door, he was much less confident about what to do with her, and himself. She put on as real of a smile as she could. He touched it with his thumb, remembering the way her lips felt, still reddened and plump after their lovemaking just moments before.

“I won’t come back without him. Then, I’ll be truly free. I can’t even begin to imagine what it will feel like,” he told her.

“We will find out together when that day comes. Until then, I’ll be waiting for you, Fenris,” she promised.

“You don’t have to do that, Scarlet.”

She laid a hand on his cheek, tracing her finger down his jawline, to the tattoos that fell from his lower lip down his chin. “I want to.”

This woman has given me everything in this life, he thought. “Thank you.”

“Thank me by coming home,” she pleaded with him.

Home is where she is. “I will.” He kissed her then, with all the passion and love he had for her; he kissed her one more time.

  


  


That afternoon Hawke came home looking for her mother. Her uncle, Gamlen followed her in the door shortly after she arrived, also looking for Leandra.

“We were supposed to have lunch today, and she didn’t show,” he told her.

“That’s odd,” Hawke replied.

Hawke informed Varric, then went to gather Merrill from her home in the alienage. Varric quickly sent a messenger after Fenris.

It took all day for Hawke’s team to follow a trail to the underground hole where a blood mage had been stashing women from all over Kirkwall, in an attempt to rebuild his deceased wife from their characteristics that likened to hers. Hawke caught him administering a dark blood magic ritual, one unfamiliar to Merrill. He summoned a host of demons to fight for him while he completed it. Demons of envy, desire, despair, and rage attacked them with all of the ferocity of the emotions which they embodied, fueled by the fervor of the the blood mage, Quentin, to reunite with his late wife.

Fenris arrived as the rest of the team was wading through the demon horde. He was able to make his way to Leandra, and pull her from the spell as Hawke felled Quentin. Fenris met Varric’s eyes, and laid Leandra in Hawke’s lap as she knelt at his feet. He shook his head and stepped back, speechless.

Hawke cradled her mother against her body, rocking her, knowing from the look on her face that she wouldn’t last long. Leandra’s pale, ghostly white body was covered in stitches, her eyes were cloudy and vacant. “Scarlet, dear, that must be you,” Leandra whispered.

Hawke sniffled. “Yes, Mother. It’s me. I’m here. You’re going to be alright. I’ve got you now.”

“Pish posh, darling. I’m going to see your father, and Bethany, and your grandparents. And you’re going to live.”

“Momma, I love you. Tell Daddy and Bethany, that Carver and I miss them terribly.” Hawke’s tears flowed freely now.

“Tell Carver I love him, proud of him, magnificent Templar.”

“I will.” 

Leandra took her daughter’s hand. “I love you, darling girl. You are a shining example of the Hawke and the Amell family, no matter what your Uncle Gamlen has ever tried to tell you.”

That made Hawke laugh. “Thank you, Mother.”

The dying woman reached up and touched her daughter’s face one last time. “It doesn’t matter who you choose in the long run. But, choose to be happy, truly happy, and you will not regret a day of it. I promise you this.” Leandra took her last breath.

Fenris stepped forward. He wanted to hold Hawke, to attempt to soothe her, even if it was in vain. He wanted to stay with her forever in that moment, Danarius be damned and forgotten. He could not leave her now.

Anders put a hand on his shoulder. “Your old master is not dead yet, is he?” he whispered.

Fenris glared at that hand, his tattoos flashing bright.

“You won’t be able to live with yourself, or her until he his. You’ll leave her again one day. What will she do then, with her Mother dead and you gone, your return uncertain?”

“What are you getting at, mage?” Fenris asked, seething.

“If you stay now to console her she will never let me back in. And she’s going to need me when you leave again.” Anders waited, hoping to buy himself a little more time with her. “Let me do this. Leave, and let me do this one more thing for her. I will need to leave her myself one day in the not-too-far-off future. And it will be for good, never to return. You will have her then, all to yourself, for the rest of your days. Just promise me one thing, here and now, that you will come back for her. She needs you.”

“What if she doesn’t forgive me? What if she can’t?” Fenris asked, doubtful.

“She will. We both know that she loves you. Always has. Always will.” Anders couldn’t take his eyes from her. “And I have always loved her. I won’t let her be alone in this world.”

“Promise me that you’ll take care of her.”

Anders nodded. 

“I’m just going to say this once: Thank you, Anders.”

“I’m just going to say this once: Get the fuck out of my sight, Fenris.”

  


  


Anders had almost two years of near newlywed bliss with Hawke after Leandra died and Fenris fled to Tevinter. Hawke couldn’t cope with losing her Mother and Fenris in the same day. Anders carried her home, informed Carver, and handled all of Leandra’s funeral arrangements. Within a week he had moved into Hawke’s mansion to oversee the estate’s affairs while she grieved.

On a morning that had started with languid, body worshiping sex, followed by a large breakfast, and finished with a goodbye kiss as Hawke went out the door to dig up an ancient elven artifact with Merrill, Anders finally heard news of that which he had been anticipating with dread and sorrow: Fenris.

Standing at the writing desk, a desk they had been sharing all this time, he was torn about what to do. Half of him wanted to leave the parchment on it for her to find. He wanted to be gone when she came home to read it, didn’t want to see her face when she learned his fate. The other half of him wanted to throw it in the fireplace and pretend he had never received it.

Danarius was in Kirkwall, but not because he had followed Fenris here, because he had captured Fenris nearly a year ago and was bringing him here to attempt to ransom him. It sounded suspicious and unlikely. But, he couldn’t bring himself to throw the missive into the fire. He wasn’t craven. What he had planned for the mages was brave and daring. He would free the mages of Kirkwall. Soon. Very soon.

But, he had made a promise to Fenris. And out of his love for Hawke, he would keep it. His plot must be carried through using his original plan. He had lied to her so many times, that he could no longer easily differentiate fact from fiction in his own mind. But, his last conversation with Fenris was still fresh on his lips. 

“. . .she loves you.” He had never uttered it before or since, and never would again. That didn’t make it any less true. Sharing in her bed, her home, her meals—he knew that she never shared her heart with him. 

He went to the Hanged Man and handed Varric the letter.

“Tell her not to be anywhere near the Chantry during the next full moon. I won’t see her again to tell her myself,” Anders informed him.

“Now Blondie, don’t do anything rash. Just take a seat and we’ll tell her together,” Varric tried to persuade the mage.

“No. I lived the lie for too long, for five years too long! You know as well as I do what’s always been going on here, admit it.” Anders glared at Varric with unforgiving eyes.

“Yes. Yes I do. But, you and Hawke needed each other for your own reasons, and there is no shame in that. I overheard the deal you made with Fenris. I heard you tell him to leave. You hold up your end of the bargain or I swear  I’LL never forgive you for it!” Varric stood, his chair screeched across the floor behind him.

“I have. Fenris is back in Kirkwall. The circumstances surrounding his return are none of my concern. I wanted to throw that damned scrap of paper in the fire. I didn’t. I brought it here to you. I have to walk away now, Varric.” Anders paced the room like a caged shadow-cat. His voice rose with his emotions. “I can’t see them together, can’t know with my own two eyes what they will get to have together. What I never had with her even though I shared her bed as much, if not more than he ever did!”

His eyes glowed blue. The invisible cracks of his skin opened, revealing the eerie light of Justice from beneath. “It’s not fair! She has never loved me and never will. I was just her stand in for that elf! That mage hating elf! How can she love him and not me? Her? A mage herself!”

Varric pulled up his chair and sat down. They never, ever trifled with the spirit of Justice that lived within Anders. “You’re right. You should go. I’ll take care of Hawke. I promise, Anders.”

Justice took several gasping breaths through clenched teeth. The light faded. Anders stood in his wake, wiped his hand through his disheveled ponytail, thanked Varric, then turned and left the pub.

  


Danarius didn’t need to be tracked down. The place to find him was clearly written down on the parchment from Anders. Varric made sure Hawke knew who it came from.

“He’s been digging for months, Boss. Made some deals with a Dwarven lyrium smuggler that does business in between Tevinter and the Marches. This is what he finally turned up. For you. I’m sure Fenris would have come back a long time ago. But, it appears he has been back in the custody of Danarius for the last year . Why the magister is bringing him here now, I don’t know. Maybe just to stir up shit for you now that the tension between the mages and templars are at an all time high. So, we should try to keep it quiet.” 

Varric tried to make her feel better about the state in which Fenris left. He knew that she never forgiven him for it.

Hawke sat with her arms crossed over her chest, staring straight ahead into the fire. Her eyes were narrow slits. Her mouth was pursed. It wasn’t going well.

“I get it. You’re still mad. But, you are going to come with me to rescue the guy, aren’t you? It’s not like you can’t afford the ransom.” Varric was a little surprised to feel like he was coaxing her into saving the elf.

“Oh, I can afford the ransom. Then, Fenris is going to turn around and leave Kirkwall with his freedom. That way I can live in peace knowing he’s safe. And then I’ll be happy, just like Mother wanted.”

“With Anders?” Varric asked.

“Anders didn’t leave me when the chips were down,” Hawke pointed out.

Varric realized at that moment that he may have forgotten to tell her that Anders’ intent was neither to come back nor to say goodbye. He certainly wasn’t going to bring it up now.

  


  


Merrill, Isabela, Spike, and Aveline joined Hawke and Varric to recover Fenris. When Isabela informed Hawke that Anders’ clinic was empty she wanted to be surprised, but she wasn’t. 

So he was gone already? She decided in that moment that it was high past time she try being on her own for the first time in her life.

Neither Varric or Hawke realized that the address on the note was the same place where Leandra had died until they stood in front of the door.

“Andraste’s flaming knickers! Do all psychotic mages pick this dump as their hideout?” Varric said.

The team worked their way through a maze of rooms filled with traps, guarded by enchanted undead attackers—proof that Danarius, to the surprise of no one, was using blood magic. Merrill assured them that this time she was prepared to counteract anything Danarius would throw at them. She had been doing nothing but studying intensely for this moment since Leandra’s death.

When they finally reached the holding chamber of the basement, Fenris was being held in a similar sphere of shimmering white light that Leandra had been in when they last stood in this room. Hawke’s breath hitched in her chest. Both of her hands flew to cover her mouth as a sob escaped, unbidden. Her strength wavered upon seeing him like that, helpless, bound by magic, staring ahead into nothingness in a crumpled ball, his limbs askew at odd angles. He wore only a stained linen and leather breechcloth. His sword lay on the ground underneath of him. He hovered in the air above it, unaware.

Hawke noticed he had new tattoos, not white like his other tattoos. These shimmered pink and red through the glitter of the magical field holding him.

They couldn’t be red lyrium, could they?  What would that do do him?,  she wondered in horror.

She could hold her tongue no longer, waiting for the magister to speak. “I have your ransom, Danarius. Let him go free and come get what you came for!”

He laughed. “We both know that I did not come here for a ransom, Scarlet.”

The use of her given name tipped her off. He knew about her and Fenris. He was going to use it against her. 

Through gritted teeth she asked, “Then what  did you come for?”

“Why, I came here to lay eyes on the beloved of my beloved, of course. Fenris has told me so much about you. I thought he would like to watch you die before he helps me kill all of your friends.” His grey hair was unkempt, but his robes were pristine. He voice was low, as if he were speaking to a lover.

Varric spoke up. “Fenris would never hurt us, you nut job! You’re going to regret this!”

At that moment, Danarius dropped his spell. Fenris fell to the floor. In a daze he found Hawke’s eyes with his and scrambled to his feet, tripping in his state of confusion and unbalance.

Hawke ran through Varric’s grasp to Fenris’ side, helping him to his feet. His eyes met hers, and for one brief moment of recognition they had each other again. Then, his tattoos began to glow, blue at first, then red. The color of the glow was new, and all wrong, illuminating everything around him in the eerie red light. 

He bent to pick up his sword, and when he faced her he no longer knew her, nor she him. His eyes flashed red as they met hers.

“Did I say that he was going to ‘. . . watch you die?’ I meant he’s going to kill you. Silly me!” Danarius laughed again, a maniacal laugh that chilled Hawke to her very core. “Kill her, my little wolf. Kill Scarlet, then kill the others.”

Fenris nodded in acknowledgment of the order he had been given. He advanced on Hawke who had begun her retreat.

“Merrill, you can counter this, right? Tell me you can counter this. Merrill!” Hawke was beginning to get frantic. She couldn’t attack Fenris, couldn’t hurt him.  This isn’t happening!

“Hawke, I don’t know! I don’t know what these new markings are doing or how they work! I’m going to try though! I promise!” Merrill began to go through the repertoire of spells she had been learning. “If something works, you’ll know, Hawke.”

“Aveline, you stay on Merrill. Not a Maker bereft thing interrupts her. Do you hear me?”

“Copy that, Hawke!” Aveline assured her.

“Isabela, you’re on Varric. Varric, you’re on Danarius. I’ll keep Fenris busy!”

“Aye, aye, Hawke!” Isabela answered.

“Got it, Boss!” Varric yelled.

Fenris only had eyes for her . . . still. So, keeping him occupied was easy. But, if he had the strength of a dozen men before, it was tenfold now. He swung the sword as if it were but a letter opener. It too glowed sickeningly red.

Huh, scarlet, like me. Great.

The only thing Hawke really saw that she had going for her was that Fenris, in all of his newfound strength, was slow and methodical. He knew he had the advantage. He had no doubts in his abilities, had no reason to hurry when it was mano a mano. 

Danarius continued to amaze her with the depth and breadth of his magical prowess. He conjured demons, undead, abominations: all out of thin air. Aveline never left her charge, but started to take on several attackers. Spike defended her. Varric and Isabela had to leave their target to help defend Merrill. The magister now cast without interruption. Hawke began firing at the shield around him. He never faltered.

She lured Fenris into the fray amidst Danarius’ conjurations. He was forced to attack them as they attacked him as well. Danarius must have lost some of his focus to not notice this. Hawke glanced at him. With his eyes closed he chanted, his focus upon an object in his palm. She knew that focus was taking all of his attention now.

“Merrill! Concentrate on freeing Fenris from the spell!”

“That’s going to be the hardest thing to do, Hawke! I’ll have to bring down that shield first before I can break any of the magister’s spells!”

“Bring it down, then! I will keep Fenris busy,” she promised. 

Hawke kept Fenris wandering through the attackers, his advance always focused on her, even as he felled minions of Danarius. He made quick work of bringing down their number to a more manageable quantity. Isabela could help distract Fenris now. But, he wanted Hawke. He cast Isabela aside whenever she came near.

“It’s just like every time I tried flirting with him Hawke!” Isabela called out.

“That’s not helping, pirate!” Hawke told her.

Hawke stumbled during a hurried stride backwards. Fenris swept the sword over his head, and brought it down onto the stone floor beneath. A shower of sparks erupted as he narrowly missed taking a slice out of Hawke’s thigh. “Merrill, what’s it going to take to get that shield down?” Hawke asked.

“I’m going to need . . . blood,” Merrill answered.

“Use mine then,” Hawke told her.

“I’m going to need a lot of blood,” Merrill said, much more quietly.

“Take it from me, Merrill. Varric, as soon as that shield comes down, put a bolt through that asshole’s head!”

“Hawke, I might need all your blood,” Merrill yelled. She wanted to make sure Hawke heard her.

“Merrill, fucking do it!” Hawke screamed from the pit of her stomach.

The elven mage didn’t hesitate another moment. Merrill cast the spell. Blood began to well up on each of Hawke’s forearms from her wrists to her elbows, it trickled down her neck, ran from her ears. She coughed. Blood spewed forth from her mouth, splattering across the front of Fenris. She dropped her staff into the pool of blood that was already forming under her, and fell to her knees in front of him.

Fenris stopped dead in his tracks, his sword pulled back at his side, ready to be plunged into her belly. He watched the blood drain from her body, laid his sword on the ground, and placed a hand on her shoulder. With his other hand he reached back, and it disappeared into a cloud of swirling blue and red vapor, the way it did the moment before he plunged it into someone’s chest. 

Varric fired a bolt. It hit Danarius’ skull with a loud crack, pinning him to the stone wall behind him.

The glow instantly left Fenris’ body. His face softened. He recognized Hawke, and fell to his knees in front of her just in time to catch her in his arms. More of her blood poured down the front him as she coughed and gurgled against his chest.

He turned her in his arms, cradling her in his lap, wrapping her in his embrace. One hand went to her throat, trying to staunch the flow from her jugular.

She couldn’t speak. She tried, but no sound came from her throat except a gasp and the splash of blood.

“No. Scarlet! Maker, no!” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. 

Her lips gasped for air as her eyes glazed over. 

“Scarlet, stay with me. I love you. Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me. Please, don’t go. I love you so much. You’re my whole world, darling. I can’t live without you. Merrill! Merrill, help her! Save her!” Fenris was frantic.

“I can’t, Fenris. I’m sorry.” 

“You have to!”

“I can’t!” Merrill cried, remorsefully. “She gave her life for yours. It just doesn’t work that way.”

“You can’t let her do this. Scarlet, you can’t do this!” He shook her gently, as if trying to rouse her.

Varric knelt next to Hawke, and took her hand in his, squeezing it, pressing a kiss to it. “She already did, Elf. She did it for you. She loves you.”

“I know she loves me. She doesn’t have to prove it this way.” Fenris began rocking her back and forth. 

Her eyes no longer focused on his. She still gasped for air slowly, intermittently, like a fish out of water. 

He pressed his lips to her forehead again, leaving them there as he talked to her. “I love you. Scarlet, don’t leave me. I love you. Stay, darling, stay.”

Varric covered his face with his hands and wept.

Merrill laid a hand on Fenris’ shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Fenris.”

Aveline and Isabela stood behind them.

Fenris held Hawke to his chest sobbing loudly, uncontrollably.

A blue glow encompassed both Fenris and Hawke. Merrill pulled Varric away.

Anders knelt next to Hawke, laid his hands on her chest and began chanting the ancient words. The light flowed from Fenris to Anders. Anders’ eyes glowed blue, then red, then back to blue. Fenris’ tattoos glowed blue, then red, then blue again. Anders swayed heavily. 

Merrill stepped forward. But, when he straightened back up he looked at her with those glowing eyes. She stepped back.

Anders began chanting, reciting old words which Merrill neither knew nor had heard before.

The blood covering Hawke and Fenris slowly began to coagulate and make a trail back into Hawke’s body through her skin. She inhaled sharply. Her chest expanded and her eyes opened. 

Fenris held his breath. “Scarlet?”

She nodded, closing her eyes tightly, struggling to catch her breath.

Anders touched Fenris on the shoulder. “Tell her to use the lyrium within you. She can draw power from the markings, learn to use them. When they attune to her, no one will ever be able to control you again . . . except for her that is. I don’t know what to do about the red lyrium, however. Good luck.”

“I’ll say it again, Anders. Thank you.”

Anders nodded, and said a quick goodbye to his friends, but not to Hawke. Her, he couldn’t say goodbye to.

Fenris bent over her, kissing her forehead, and her mouth. She kissed him back and smiled up at him with love, and sadness in her eyes.

  


  


Hawke slept the vast majority of the days throughout the following weeks. Fenris only left her side when absolutely necessary. Merrill explained that the blood magic that took her life mingled strongly with the healing magic that gave it back. As the two warred inside, her body would need a lot of rest. She alternated between the cold chills, and sweltering fevers for the next week. Merrill brought her tonics that Fenris had to drip into her mouth, and poultices to cover the site of the wounds to help draw out the remaining magic.

She woke only occasionally to smile at him, or roll over, or to feverishly grab at her throat and wrists. Fenris held her, and pressed cool cloths to her forehead and chest. He brushed her hair, and even braided it over her shoulder so it wouldn’t get tangled. Sometimes Merrill would come in and he’d be holding her to him, running his hand lovingly over her hair or her face, whispering to her that he’d never leave her again, telling her he would always be here for her. He didn’t stop if he knew Merrill was watching him. He just kept on until he found a good stopping point, then let Merrill tend to her.

He always asked if she was going to be all right. And Merrill assured him each day that she would be, in time.

Three weeks later Hawke woke up in the middle of the night. Fenris stood at the fireplace, his hands on the mantle as she has seen him do many times in the past when they fought or before he left. Tears sprung to her eyes. The last thing she remembered was that he left her. Her Mother died, and he left her, without a word.

He turned the moment he heard her breathing change, and was on the bed gathering her into his arms. He pressed kisses to the top of her head, soothing her with his voice, gently. “Darling, it’s going to be all right. You’re going to be all right.”

“Go, Fenris,” she said weakly, pushing him away. 

He didn’t let go of her, but held her at arms’ length, in disbelief.

“Go, Fenris. Just go. You wanted to leave. You left without saying goodbye! You broke my trust and my fucking heart! You left me with Anders! I’m better off without you.” 

He reached up to put his hand on her forehead. 

She slapped it away. “I don’t love you anymore. I came to rescue you from Danarius so that you could live as a free man. I did that. I can take care of myself.”

“Scarlet . . .” He didn’t know what to say or do. He searched her face.

She met his eyes. “I said, ‘I don’t love you anymore.’”

He reached for the blanket and pulled it up over her chest, tucking her in. Then, he slid off of the bed and slowly left the room, looking back at her before he shut the door, saying nothing.

  


  


Merrill came the next day. When she asked Hawke where Fenris was, Hawke told her that she had asked him to go. When Merrill tried to ask more about it, Hawke got extremely upset and asked Merrill to leave and not come back until she told her to. Merrill stormed out of the estate angrily.

Varric came over the next day. Hawke told him the same thing she told Merrill.

Hawke spent her time crying, feeling sick, refusing food, and refusing visitors. Bodahn got very worried for her and eventually sent in Sandal knowing Hawke was incapable of being harsh with the lad.

“What is it you want, Sandal?” Hawke asked when the boy entered that day.

“Can I have some salamanders, please?” Sandal asked her.

“Of course. You can have all the salamanders you want,” Hawke told him, as she always did when he asked her that question.

“Good,” Sandal said.

“Good,” Hawke said.

“Fenris has the salamanders,” Sandal informed her. “He keeps them. In his skin. I need some. Very important. You go get him now.”

That day, Hawke decided it was time to get out of bed.

  


  


The Hanged Man always smelled the same, always looked the same, always sounded the same. Stale beer, pipeweed, unwashed bodies, full tables, empty tables, half-empty tables, bards, pirates, mages, templars out of uniform, off-duty city guards, strangers, and friends. It was familiar. It was home. She walked straight to Varric’s quarters. He sat at his table pouring over his ledgers, his eyeglasses perched on the wide bridge of his nose.

“Hi.”

“Well, ‘Hi’ to you too, stranger,” Varric greeted her. “How ya feelin’?”

“Better.”

“Not good enough for multi-word answers, though?”

“Nope.”

“Well then, I have a few words for you if you’re going to be the silent type. And you’re going to listen since you’ve decided to rejoin society. If you change your mind, you let me know when I’m all done. How’s that sound?” Varric asked, steepling his fingers.

Hawke crossed her legs, and leaned to one side. “Fair ‘nough.”

“I’m going to start by asking you a question. Something I never ask you about. But, I just want you to answer, and then shut up. Are you still with me?”

Hawke nodded in agreement.

“Why did you send Fenris away?” Varric asked.

“He needed to go,” she said.

“Let’s try that again. Why did YOU decide to send Fenris away?”

“Varric, are we really going to do this?” Hawke said, tapping her foot.

“You agreed. Answer the question,” Varric said, slamming his book shut and placing his spectacles atop it.

“I don’t trust him, Varric. Remember when he left me? Mother died, and he just walked out without saying a word, or ever checking up on me! He left me first. I gave up on him that day! That was two fucking years ago. I put my heart away, and I’m not getting it back out to get broken again by someone I don’t know how to trust anymore!” She sat back in her chair, crossed her arms over her chest and looked away, far away.

“Bullshit.”

She glared at him now through narrowed eyes, with pursed lips.

“You heard me. Bull. Shit.” Varric flailed his hands at her as he talked. He had too much pent up anger to be able to sit still. “You threw your heart at him to save him from Danarius! Not only were you willing to give your own life for him, a life you basically lost and had handed back to you, by someone else who loves you, but you also trusted him not to kill you when he was actively trying to murder you!” 

“I’m better off without him.”

“Bullshit again.”

“Fine, he’s better off without me,” she said, setting her face in determination.

“Why in the fuck are you lying to yourself like this, Hawke?” Varric asked walking over to her. He put his hands on the arms of her chair bringing his face directly in front of hers, his nose only inches away.

The tears came then. “Because I can’t watch him die again, Varric! Because if he would have stayed he would have given his life for me, again. And I can’t watch him die . . . again! He’s everything to me. And if he’s out there by himself he’ll get to live his life. Maybe he’ll go look up his family, and his history. Maybe he has people to go back to. What if he has a lover that he can’t even remember? She’ll love him and take him in and he can forget about me. And he will just live a normal, happy life!”

“What in the Maker’s name is wrong with the two of you? You’re obviously perfect for each other, because somehow you both believe this asinine notion! It’s absurd. You’re head-over-heels in love with each other. You died in his arms. He died in yours! You died to stop Danarius and free him from a lifetime of slavery. He held you, and loved you, and cried over you, and begged you to stay here with him so that he could keep on loving you forever and ever! It made me cry, damnit! There wasn’t a dry eye in the house! And then Anders came in and just poured Fenris’ life into you, and you took a breath, and ‘Voila!’ You’re alive. Then, he nursed you every hour of every fucking day for weeks and this is the thanks he gets?! You wake up and tell him to get the fuck out? Are you fucking crazy, Hawke?” 

Varric too had tears running down his face by now. He smeared them away with the heel of his hand and stared at her.

“Obviously I am,” she asserted, crossing her arms over her chest, and tilting her chin up to him.

“He didn’t walk out on you. The day your mom died, he and Anders made a deal. Anders asked him to leave, promising him that he’d watch over you. And after Fenris killed Danarius, Anders would make sure that Fenris got you back. He knew that if Fenris stayed to console you after your mom’s passing, that you would never give him the chance to be there for you the next time the Elf left. They made a deal, because they both love you. So there you go.” Varric now sat back, crossing his arms over his chest.

“What do you mean they made a deal?” Hawke asked standing up, slamming her hands down onto the table.

Varric stood up and slammed his hands down on table, making his glasses bounce onto the floor. “Did. I. Stutter?”

“Fucking shit, Varric. I have to go after him.”


	7. The Imperium

Chapter 7: The Imperium

Year 8

  


  


Varric and Hawke each packed a bag, told their friends where they were going, and headed North towards Tevinter with Spike in tow. It took them several days to follow Fenris’ trail to a small town South of the Vimmark Mountains. He was not leaving a trail now; he did not want to be followed. It would not be easy to find him. After nearly a week in town, questioning every merchant that passed through, and after they had thrown around enough coin, a dwarf fessed up to seeing an Elf with white tattoos cross the Vimmark Pass heading towards Tantervale. 

They didn’t find any word of him again in the Free Marches.

“I’ll go as far as Tantervale with you, Boss. I’m betting he’s heading back into Tevinter towards Qarinus to look for his sister. She’s serving as a mage in the court of a magister. That’s the last Fenris heard about her, anyhow. If he’s not there, he probably went on towards Minrathous, where Danarius lived, to look for more information on where his mother might be. I can’t go to Tevinter with you. I’ll slow you down, and I’ll be conspicuous. There’s plenty of dwarves in the big cities, but I’ve never been to Tevinter. And I don’t know that I’d do you a lot of good there. You’ll blend in. Dress as a Tevinter mage. Act like a Tevinter mage. Hell, act like he’s your escaped slave and you’ll probably find him faster. Kind of low sounding, but if you don’t find him soon, he could end up in far worse hands than yours.” 

Hawke knew Varric was right. Varric was always right.

She asked Varric to take care of Spike until she got back. A Fereldan dog lord certainly wouldn’t be welcomed into the Imperium. It took her weeks to get through Tevinter, which was a world away from the Free Marches, and even farther away from Ferelden where she was raised. She found one closed door after another before finally deciding to take Varric’s advice. She bought Tevinter robes, and a Tevinter staff. She acted like a Tevinter mage. She adopted a Tevinter accent. And she started asking about her escaped slave, an elf with platinum blonde hair, and white and red tattoos.

Now, she was getting somewhere. No one had seen him, but people started to know who he was. They had heard of Danarius traveling south with him. She spread the word that she purchased him off of Danarius, that the magister had delivered him to her personally, but that he had escaped. And she always said, “If Danarius should come through, after me, looking for him please, tell him that you saw me and I’m on my way towards Qarinus.”

  


After weeks of journeying across the Free Marches and across Tevinter, lands she had never seen before, she found him. On the outskirts of Qarinus, in the far northeast corner of Tevinter, he sat in a dark corner of a dark pub, in a darker town. 

His back was pressed into the corner, his feet propped up on the bench, his arms crossed over his knees, his forehead resting on his forearms. She had acquired a tattered cloak to cover her mage robes upon entering this town of questionable repute. It didn’t look like the kind of place where they welcomed magisters. The hood was pulled over her head, obscuring her face from view. She held the edges with her fingertips so that she could see him clearly, just to be sure it was him.

He was unmistakable, though he had lost some weight. His arms looked thin, his hair was long and unwashed. He wore the clothing of commoners; it didn’t suit him. His sword was wrapped in a cloak, much like hers, squeezed in between him and the back of the bench. A mug and a small empty bowl sat on the table at which he reclined. He didn’t stir as she drew close. His ear twitched. She stilled.

She didn’t know what to do, what to say. “Fenris,” she whispered so quietly, she couldn’t be sure if his name had even passed across her lips.

His ear twitched again. He heard her. He still did not move.

She took a step forward, more slowly than she had ever moved in her life. “Fenris,” she said again, a breath louder than before. She didn’t trust her voice to do much more without breaking.

He raised his head from his arms, blinking his eyes against the meager amount of candlelight in this pub.

Another step forward.

He looked at her then. Without moving a muscle in his face, his eyes gave away the joy that filled him at the sight of her.

Another step. Her knees nearly touched the bench on which he sat. She lifted the edge of her hood.

He scrubbed his hands across his face, blinking as he looked up at her. “Scarlet,” he replied in a breathy whisper. He stood up, and slipped his hands into her hood, pushing it from her head. His soft palms cupped her cheeks, tilting her chin up to his face. “It’s you.”

All she could do was nod her head with pursed lips. In an attempt to quell the uprising of tears, she held her breath in vain. The sobs started in her chest as the tears welled up in her eyes, then streamed down her cheeks. One hand covered her mouth and nose, stifling her cries. Now, she could see the difference the red lyrium had made to his skin. She had tried so hard to ignore it, to put it from her mind hoping it would go away. But, as she stood in front of him she could see how his skin puckered at the edges of the new markings tracing an outline around the old. 

She reached up to trace the lines stemming from his chin. The skin was rough and slightly raised. As her fingers traveled down his neck, her hand and her gaze came to rest on his chest. 

Reaching up, he lowered her hand from in front of her face. Fenris tilted her chin up so that she was looking at him. He tangled his fingers into her long, dark hair as his mouth came crushing down onto hers in a kiss so full of passion, that there was no doubt in her heart that he loved her still.

“You shouldn’t have come,” he said against her mouth. “But, I’m glad you did.”

“Fenris, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry that . . . that I didn’t save you from him. I’m sorry that he hurt you. I’m sorry that you had to endure it again, the markings. We’ll find a way to remove them. I—I lied to you, and I shut you out of my life. I will never, ever stop loving you. Please, come home to Kirkwall with me. Please, forgive me? I’ll . . .” Her chest heaved with sobs as the dam broke. “I’ll . . . never forgive . . . myself. I should have . . . come for you.”

He hugged her to his chest, tightly wrapping his arms around her, burying his nose in her hair. She smelled of the road, and of Tevinter, and faintly of elfroot. She had come for him. He squeezed his eyes shut, keeping his own tears at bay as he breathed her in.

“There’s nothing to forgive,” he told her. “You were hurt, and you were scared.”

“So were you,” she said against his chest.

He nodded against her head. “You’re right; I was.”

She wiped each cheek with the flat of her hand. “I—I’m sorry it took me so long. I should have come for you a long time ago. I’m so sorry, Fenris.”

“Scarlet?” He almost still didn’t believe it was her. Surely, he was dreaming. He hesitated a moment before taking her hands in his. 

“I’m sorry I sent you away,” she said as she regained her composure.

“Stop apologizing. You didn’t have any control over what Danarius has put me through, nor any knowledge of it. And you’re here now. That makes up for everything else.” He ran her knuckles back and forth across his lips, pressing several kisses across them, and over the back of her hand. Then, he unclasped one hand from the other, placed a kiss in her palm, and cradled it against his cheek.

“It doesn’t hurt then? When I touch you? I was afraid it would hurt now.” She ran her fingertips lightly up his cheek, into his hair.

“No,” he told her, letting his eyes drift closed. “I knew it wouldn’t. It’s much more intense than it was before, but it’s not painful. When anyone else touches me though, it’s like a thousand knives. Thinking of seeing you again is the only thing that has kept me alive. I’ve always said I’d die before letting Danarius take me again. When I realized that he wasn’t going to follow me to Kirkwall I knew I had to let myself fall back into his custody. And dying instead of falling into his hands, dying instead of seeing you again was not an option.” 

His eyes fluttered back open. “You are all that matters to me, Scarlet.”

“I just stopped crying,” she teased.

“Sit. You must be tired. It’s a long journey,” he said, pulling her down on the bench beside him. He sat with his back in the corner where he could see nearly the entirety of the pub.

She sat cross-legged, turning to face him. “Especially when you don’t know where you’re going, and don’t speak Tevene.” She studied his face, her eyes roaming across his features for the first time in months. “How long have you had the new markings?”

“Not long,” he told her rubbing at his chin. “It was one of the last things he did to me before leaving for Kirkwall. I’m sure he hoped I would forget everything again. The pain was far worse than the first time. But, I refused to lose consciousness, hoping that would be the key to holding on to you. I wouldn’t let you go.” 

He drifted away a bit then, looking not at her, but through her. “They say red lyrium is alive. That must be true because it’s growing, spreading from the original markings that were traced over. It hardens, pulling at the skin around it, always reminding me that it’s there. I think the sensation feeds off of my emotions. That’s why there’s not pain with you. And why it hurt worse than anything else, even the process of receiving the new markings, when Danarius would touch me.”

“Did he . . . um . . . use you, again?” she asked, tentatively.

He came back to her then, looking into her eyes. “No. He had no control over me. Just as Anders said, only you have that control now.”

“I’ll never use it,” she promised.

He smirked. “You won’t need to.” He leaned forward to kiss her, pulling her into him just to touch her again. “He wasn’t interested in me since I wasn’t interested in him any longer. His game was broken. And he had no desire to chain me or force me. I am thankful for that.”

“As am I,” Scarlet sighed in relief. “So, you’ll come back to Kirkwall with me?”

“Of course I will. But, there’s something I must do first,” he confessed. “I’ve followed a lead to my mother. She serves one of the houses here in Qarinus. I have to find her, talk to her, see if it helps me remember anything. I have to let her know I’m alive. Will you go with me?” he asked.

She cupped his face in both hands. “Of course. Of course I’ll go with you.”

He kissed her then, in the dark pub, in the darker town, in a corner that wasn’t quite so dark at the moment.

  


It was just after mid-day and the sun was still high in the summer sky. They decided to press on towards Qarinus. Once inside the city walls they abandoned their cloaks and Fenris saw for the first time what she was wearing.

“You’re dressed as a magister?” he asked, in shock.

“I—I’ve been asking about you throughout Tevinter. Inquiring about my . . . escaped slave. I’m so sorry, Fenris! I thought it would be the fastest way to find you. We’ll stop at the first market and get new clothes for the both of us. I don’t want to continue that ruse any longer.” She turned to him and reached for him.

He stepped back.

Her arms fell to her sides in defeat.

“You look ridiculous,” he said with a hint of a smile on his face.

She smiled, albeit meekly. “I thought you might be mad.”

“No. ‘We do what we have to.’ Let’s get off the road and you can change into your armor. We’ll just get me something to wear, and I can pass as either your slave or a Liberati, an emancipated slave. I can be your bodyguard either way,” he running a hand over her hip to cup her buttock in his hand. “If you’re in need of a bodyguard, that is.”

“I will never have you be a slave ever again, not even in passing. You are a free man, Fenris. I’ll gladly take you as my bodyguard,” she said, sliding her hand down the front of his crotch, rubbing it back and forth as he grew against her palm. “But, only if you want to guard my body all night too.”

He pressed her back against the wall, taking her mouth with his, pulling her body into him. “We need to find an inn . . . soon.”

His eyes flashed at her, promising a long, sleepless night.

They decided to stop at an inn further into town. She still had plenty of coin left, thanks to Varric. Fenris followed behind her up three flights of stairs to the door of their room, scanning every hallway, every alcove for someone who could potentially thwart his plans for tonight.

Once inside the impressive room, he closed the door behind them. She had decided it was worth the extra coin to get a suite. The room had wall-to-wall marble floors, paisley Orlesian area rugs in a myriad of colors, an emerald green velvet love seat, and a hulking canopied four poster bed.

By the time his gaze landed on the bed she had already doffed her armor and was beckoning him with one hooked finger. He stood his sword against the wall, within arm’s reach of the bed. She untied the bright, royal blue silk curtains from the posts. He watched as she fanned the fabric across the rods, enclosing the bed completely.

She crept behind him, removing his leather doublet as he unfastened the clasps, caressing the bare skin below as she slid it from his arms. Stripping the leather from his body she lightly ran her fingernails down his back, and her lips across his shoulder blade.

His head lulled backwards, as he reached back for her, running his hands from her round hips down to her thighs, holding her to him.

He spun in her arms, and pressed the hard length of his body to her softer form. His rock hard cock throbbed against her belly. His lips found her ear, “Let’s wash Tevinter off of us before we dirty these clean sheets.”

She undulated against him. “Good idea.”

Terra cotta tile lined the floor, walls, and ceiling of the wash room. Gold tiles made mosaics of the sun on each of the four walls. Two copper knobs and a copper pipe adorned one wall. The dwarven system of running water was a luxury, even in Tevinter.

The water rained over their bodies, washing the road dust from them. He took the bar of soap from the dish in the corner, and lathered it between his hands, soaping her all over, paying special attention to her breasts, and the swell of her hips. She took it from him and returned the favor, tracing the markings as she went, noticing the difference in the texture of his skin now. She buried her fingers in his hair, scrubbing his scalp. 

He pressed both palms flat against the wall in front of him in order to remain standing. “You make me weak in the knees, Scarlet.”

“Good. You do some of your best work on your knees, if I remember correctly,” she said, suggestively.

He dropped to his knees then, slipping a hand between her legs. The wetness here was not from the water. His tongue probed her, between the lips covered in tight dark curls. Her hands fisted into his long hair as the suds rinsed out, holding her up as he lapped at her, bringing her to the brink of ecstasy. 

He loved tasting her here just as much as he loved tasting himself upon her lips. Her scent filled his nose, mingling with the goat’s milk and lavender soap that had fallen to the shower floor. He turned her, pressing her back to the wall, lifting one leg to hook her knee over his shoulder so that he could reach her more deeply. She pulled and tugged at his hair to maintain her balance. It drove him crazy with wanting her. He plunged two fingers inside of her, knowing how slick she had become. He flicked the tip of his tongue back and forth over her clit, listening to the hitch of her breath with each pass as he stroked her with his fingers. Sucking her into his mouth, he caught the bud between his teeth, and gently nipped. 

She began to call out now, as he pressed his face into her. “Oh, Fenris!”

His tongue alternated swirling around the button of flesh, and insinuating itself between her lips, licking the length of one side, then the other. Her hips began pumping rhythmically against his face. He grabbed her, following the motion as her pleasure climbed.

As she neared the edge he wanted to stand, turn her to the wall and sheath himself inside of her to feel her core tighten around him. But, instead he pushed his nose in to press against her, dipped his tongue inside of her honeyed walls as deep as he could go, and suckled on her until she came apart in his arms. Her legs shook, her elbows gave way. He helped her catch herself, placing one hand on her abdomen, holding her to the wall. The hands on his head found their purchase in fistfuls of hair, driving his own need higher. He continued to work his tongue inside of her as she quaked and moaned and pulled. She began trembling so much that he knew that any moment she would come into his mouth. He buried two fingers inside of her again, and pressed his tongue firmly against her, licking her.

His fingers fucked her with such force that a guttural cry burst forth from her throat. Incapable of forming words, she screamed her release as she came in his mouth. The burst of fluid was tart on his tongue. He lapped at her, drinking her in as she rode the wave of ecstasy he brought to her.

Standing up slowly, supporting her to make sure her legs didn’t give way, he gathered her against him as she gasped softly. Cradling her in his arms, he smoothed the wet hair back from her head, and wiped the water out of her eyes. 

Breathing heavily against his chest, her hands began to roam his body. She ran her fingertips across his pectorals, down his arms, around his sides, up his back, down his back until she found his cock and began to stroke it leisurely. He grew ever bigger in her hand as the other reached down to cup his balls. She rolled the tender skin between her fingers, lightly squeezing each testicle in turn. A finger grazed the skin behind, lightly tracing his asshole. It puckered at her touch as his cock throbbed in her grip.

It had been too long for him. He would take it slow with her later. Now, he needed to be inside of her. He kissed her, reached under her bottom, and lifted her into the air, settling her down onto his erection. She wrapped her legs around his waist, and her arms around his shoulders. He pressed her back up to the sun on the tiled wall, and moved deep inside of her, slowly at first, enjoying the feel of being enveloped by her warmth. She began to rock against him, moaning, clutching at him. He couldn’t control himself any longer. 

His tattoos glowed, white at first, then faintly red, then blue. His whole body felt as if he may tear her to shreds if he let go, but he knew he wouldn’t hurt her, couldn’t hurt hurt. He sheathed himself to the hilt, over and over again, as her fingernails tore at his shoulders, and her hands pulled his hair. 

She shouted, “Fuck me, Fenris! Fuck me!”

He felt his entire body tighten, as if it would spring a deadly trap at any moment. He grunted, growled, and moaned into her neck, then threw back his head and came harder than he had ever come in his entire life. His markings shined, covering his body in brilliant blue light. His hot seed spilled into her as his balls tightened against his body, more coming with each pump of his hips. Every muscle inside of her clenched around him, holding him in place, encouraging him to stay as she too found another release. They shuddered in each other’s embrace, clutching one another.

As he softened inside of her and slid out, he set her down carefully on the wet tile floor. He reached out and turned off the water. She let her hands rest on the curve of his buttocks, giving them a playful squeeze, as she pressed a kiss to his chest. He snaked an arm behind her neck, and pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

“I love you, Scarlet,” he said, her hair tickling his lips.

“I love you, Fenris.”

  


The next day in Qarinus Fenris took her to the market square where servants and slaves shopped daily for groceries, clothing, and equipment. Tents, tables, and carts filled the inner marketplace. Booths of stone, brick, wood, and plaster were built around the perimeter. The slave carts and cages were at the far end by the docks. Fenris made sure that they avoided that area entirely.

“While many sell themselves into slavery here in Tevinter to pay a debt, or support their family, others are brought in by slavers. That is something I just can’t bring myself to witness. I know I cannot win that battle,” he told her early that morning.

Throughout the course of all the visions, he believed he knew what his Mother and sister looked like, as there were only two people he saw. He would keep an eye out for them while they were in the square.

They shopped all morning. Scarlet received extremely polite treatment, obviously being a woman with coin. She was handed glasses of wine, and offered decadent sweets in shops where she spent not a copper. Fenris noticed that most eyes avoided him, being an elf dressed such as he, except for the other young elves. They seemed to notice him. He could tell slave from servant; the slaves wouldn’t look directly at him. 

He recalled the unending oppression of slavery. The way it made you afraid to make eye contact with others, the way it wanted to kill your spirit, he recalled all of it in that moment. For a split second he could feel the hands of Danarius upon him, groping him, molesting him, even though that was years ago. The agonizing pain of the red lyrium markings flared ever so briefly before he regained his composure. He spat upon the ground and stepped into the tent with Scarlet and the shopkeep, something a slave would never presume to do.

The shopkeep was a middle-aged woman with waning red hair, peppered with streaks of grey, pulled back into a tight bun. She was statuesque, and proud. Bolts of fine cloth were balanced against the wall in bunches of leaning columns: darkened samite, everknit wool, highever weave, and ring velvet. Spindles of trim—gold and burgundy, jeweled and tassled—lined cases of shelves. Bowls of beads filled a table. He stood behind Scarlet as she fingered each piece, walking with her, moving as her shadow. She came to another table, this one full of metal studs of brass, gold, and silver to adorn armor and scabbards, gauntlets and boots. Shining spikes, domed circles, flat rectangles, and pointy pyramids filled the ceramic bowls. 

She turned to Fenris, scanning his lithe body from head to toe. The black leather ensemble they had just purchased fit him like second skin. Her insides throbbed. The long sleeveless vest fell just above his knees. It was unadorned. She raised her hand. The shopkeep was at her side in only a moment.

“Your name?” she asked. Fenris had told her to be short with people, without being rude. The high brow Vints weren’t exactly a chatty lot.

“Melia, messere,” the woman answered.

“Melia, do you perform services or only sell materials?”

“Oh, I can make anything you desire,” she said bowing.

“Fenris darling, which of the studs would you like to adorn your new vest?” Hawke asked.

He raised an eyebrow at her, then turned his attention to the table. “It would be most practical to turn it into splint mail with spikes lining the edges to prevent at least anyone barehanded from grabbing it. But, we should go to an armorer in that case, my lady.”

Melia’s eyes lit up. “My husband owns the finest armory in all Qarinus. He’s just in town a bit farther, in one of the buildings nearer to the gates. I can have my granddaughter show you the way. He’ll have sturdier equipment there, also. These are mostly for show.”

“I thank you for your honesty, good woman.” Scarlet handed her a coin.

The woman ushered forth her granddaughter, who skipped light-heartedly as she lead them through the square, glancing back now and then to make sure Hawke and Fenris followed.

“Was that all right?” Hawke asked. “I’m sorry if it felt strange. I’m not sure how one treats a bodyguard they’re in love with.” She knew Fenris was just behind her shoulder. She didn’t need to look back to talk to him. She could feel him there. The energy of him here in Tevinter rolled off of him in waves, more so than in Kirkwall. She worried that it was the red lyrium though.

“It was odd,” was all he said.

She waited until they reached the armorer, gave the little girl a coin, and turned to him. “I can’t do this, Fenris, treat you like my servant. It just doesn’t feel right. Just, walk by my side, be my . . . my lover, my life. It’s what you are. Danarius is gone. There’s no reason to hide anymore.”

He took a step towards her, but did not touch her. “I want to. But, you will get no respect. And we need information, information we won’t get if we do it that way. You’re doing fine. Really. Let’s just keep it up. I need to get close to some elves and hear some chatter though when we’re done in here,” he said softly.

Hawke nodded her head, and strode into the armory. Inside, Dougal the armorer insisted that the leather vest was too thin to make decent mail. He showed her a thicker hide and the steel he could put on it. She turned to Fenris.

“I don’t want it to weigh me down. I must be able to have full range of motion,” he said to the man. 

“How about a small breastplate, and a splint mail vest,” the armorer said.

Fenris nodded. “That should do.”

The armorer measured Fenris, placed the breastplate on his chest, and made some marks on it with a wax crayon. “I’ll have it done day after tomorrow. You can pick it up first thing in the morning if you like.”

Hawke paid the man for the materials and thanked him for his time.

“Let’s try to see if we can learn anything now that we’ve actually done some shopping,” she suggested.

“We should go back towards the center of town where the women shop then,” Fenris told her. “Women talk more.”

“And if we can get you near some of those elf ladies we shouldn’t have a problem getting them to loosen their lips. I’ve seen the way they’ve been ogling you,” Hawke said, glancing sideways.

“Mmmf,” Fenris grumbled.

“So you’ve noticed too,” she affirmed.

“It’s different is all. But, you’re right. I don’t think I’ll have trouble getting them to talk,” Fenris agreed.

Back towards the center of the market elven women bustled to and fro, carrying baskets, sacks, and pulling small hand carts.

“Shall I walk away a bit?” Hawke asked.

“No. An elf would never surmise that a human would listen to their conversation. Just make small talk with the merchants. I’ll get what we need. Come here and touch me first, though,” he ordered.

“Oh?” She said, turning to him in astonishment. She placed a hand on his well defined bicep, tracing the tattoo with her thumb, rubbing the soft underside of his arm.

“Jealousy always attracts women,” he said, looking deep into her eyes. “Now, kiss your fingers, and tap my lips with them, then turn around.”

She kissed the index and middle finger of her left hand and tapped Fenris on the lips, pulling his bottom lip down ever so slightly as she removed her hand.

He had to resist the impulse to take her fingertip into his mouth and suckle on it, nipping the tip as he released it. 

She loved the way one of his eyebrows shot up as she bit her lip before turning from him.

Before they had walked away from the second booth, a tall, raven-haired, elven woman approached Fenris. She was a mage.

“It’s been a long time, Leto. I’ve heard talk about you, recently” she said, leaning on her staff.

His heart skipped a beat, then raced out of control.  Someone from my past? he wondered. This wasn’t in the plans. “I believe you’re mistaken,” Fenris told her.

“Leto, the tattoos and the hair don’t fool me. You really don’t remember me, do you? Varania said as much. It’s been said that you let Danarius ruin—”

His hand shot to her throat, squeezing ever so slightly. “Stop calling me that,” he ordered, as his tattoos flashed red momentarily. “I do not know you. And I never ‘let’ Danarius do anything to me. Do you understand?”

“No,” she choked out. 

He released her. They were beginning to draw glances. 

Hawke turned to him. “Fenris?”

“We’re done here,” he said, looking at the elf.

Hawke slid her hand down his arm, took Fenris by the hand, and squeezed.

“She knows what we want to know, Fenris,” Hawke said to him as he turned to face her.

The anger flashed red in his eyes, and left just as quickly when he squeezed her hand in return. Reluctantly he dropped her grasp and turned back to the elf.

“Who’s Varania?” he asked.

The elf looked defeated. “Wow. You don’t remember your own sister? I’m not as surprised that you don’t remember me, then. I wish you could,” she said reaching a hand towards his face.

He took a step back and took her arm in his hand, lowering it, shaking his head back and forth. “You don’t get to touch me,” he informed her.

“But, she does?” The elf showed her bravado, referring to a human in such a manner.

“You do not get to ask questions, especially not about her,” Fenris said, keeping his voice level. 

“I’m Hawke. Who are you?” Hawke asked, stepping in closer to keep the conversation quiet the busy public square market.

The elf looked at Fenris. 

“Answer her,” he commanded.

“Oh Leto, still a slave, I see,” she looked sad. 

He took a step towards her. “I will never be a slave again. I am free. You’ll do best not to forget that.”

“You’re an elf, Leto. You’ll do best not to forget that,” she retorted, hands on her hips.

Hawke took a step in then too. “Are you going to answer my question or not?”

“I’m Rowena. Leto and I were sweethearts before he sold himself to Danarius. I see he’s abandoned his own kind though,” she said, accusingly.

“I’m not that elf anymore,” Fenris said to her.

“I see that, now. I hoped I might trigger your memory. I’ve been waiting to see you in this market every day for ten years. And here you are.” Her eyes were sad. Her voice trembled.

“I’ll give you two a moment,” Hawke said.

She and Fenris reached for each other then, hands clasping quickly in a tight embrace before reluctantly relinquishing their grip.

“You love her,” Rowena said, wiping her eye.

“With all that I am,” Fenris said.

“You said that to me once,” Rowena told him.

“No I didn’t. Despite how similar I may look, despite the fact that I am seeking that same family, I’m not him. I’m not Leto. I know nothing about him. I know nothing about you. I do not mean to hurt you. It is only the truth.”

“I suppose it is. I should have realized earlier what she meant to you. I never would have said anything, and could have saved myself all this pain. I’m sorry, Let- Fenris? Is that what she called you?”

“Yes. I am Fenris, Rowena,” he said, extending a hand to her.

She took it, happy to have the chance to touch him one more time, one last time. “Fenris, your sister, Leto’s sister, Varania is now Liberati. She’s a mage apprentice in the court of Magister Ahriman. Your Mother serves in the household of House Pavus. They both have good lives. I still see them both. Your sister will be happy to see you. Your mom, well she’ll be happy to know you’re alive and free, and in love.”

“Can you get word to them? Help arrange meetings with them for me?” he asked, hopeful. “Please?”

“Dorian Pavus is an apprentice with Magister Alexius. You can find him with the magister’s boy, Felix, at the Redeemer pub outside of Asariel. He’ll have no problem helping you meet up with your Mother. He’s a bit of a rebel. I’ll see your sister later today. How can she get word to you?”

“We’re staying at the Black Imperial Inn. She can leave a message with the innkeep. Or she can meet me at that pub in Asariel late this evening. Thank you. Your help is invaluable, truly.”

“You’re welcome. Good luck . . . Fenris.” She turned away from him and Hawke, and walked away.

He didn’t move for several long moments. Hawke went over to him, and laid a hand on his shoulder. “How are you?”

“Let’s get out of here,” he said as he took her hand leading her away.


	8. Made Her Want More

Chapter 8: Made Her Want More

Year 8

  


  


The Redeemer was a large, fun-loving pub. The air was heavy with smoke, perfume, and stale ale. An upbeat band was playing, laughter could be heard over the din of the music, and mages and soporati intermingled flagrantly. 

Hawke felt increasingly comfortable wearing her Free Marcher breeches, boots, and jacket here.

“This place reminds me of the Hanged Man,” Fenris noticed. “. . . Only in a better neighborhood.”

“I was just thinking that, too,” Hawke agreed.

“How should we go about finding this Pavus fellow?” Fenris asked he took inventory of the pub’s patrons. In a few short moments he was acutely aware of every visible person, as well as the woman performing fellatio under the table in the far corner. The look on the face of the big fellow sitting there was unmistakable.

Oh, so it was that kind of place, he thought.

“As raucous as this place is, I imagine we mingle and listen for his name.” She looked at Fenris in his black leather. “I’ll mingle. You’re not exactly approachable.”

He smirked at her, with that eyebrow. “Good. ‘Approachable’ isn’t exactly what I was going for.”

She kissed him. “I’ll get us some drinks and look for you in a dark corner.”

He still wasn’t used to being kissed in public in Tevinter. Reaching out he grabbed her hand before she walked away. Squeezing it, he smiled at her.

She squeezed and smiled back.

  


He found a table in an empty dark corner, opposite the corner with the oral sex happening under the table, and took a seat on a bench where he could keep an eye on Hawke. She had an uncanny ability to get herself into trouble without even trying in places like this. Hawke was still at the bar, chatting with a lady next to her, when he saw Rowena and the red headed elf, the one he recognized from his visions, walk through the front door.

Rowena spotted him instantly, put her arm around her friend, his sister, and started walking in his direction.

How he wished Hawke had made it back to the table by now.

“Leto!” exclaimed the red haired girl, as she approached him. 

He stood, and she threw her arms around him. He slowly raised his arms, and hugged her in return.

“Leto, it’s really you. I can’t believe it!” She pulled away, holding him at arms’ length to look at him. “Wow. That’s a lot of tattoos. I bet it’s not anything like you were expecting, huh?”

He didn’t know what to say to her, didn’t know where to start. 

“Varania, I told you. He really doesn’t remember anything,” Rowena said.

“Is that true?” Varania asked.

Fenris cleared his throat. “Yes. I remember receiving the markings, nothing previous to that. I’m called Fenris, by the way.”

Varania narrowed her eyes at him. “You’ll always be Leto to me. You’re still my brother, you know.”

His mouth was dry. He could really use that drink. “I suppose that’s why I’m here. To meet my sister.”

“That’s what she said. So, I came. I thought you’d like to know some things, about yourself, about us. And, I’d like to find out about you too,” she said eagerly.

“Well, I was with Danarius up until he released me,” Fenris began. “I eventually found myself in Kirkwall. That’s where I met Scarlet.”

“Scarlet. That’s the girl Rowena met this afternoon? Is she your girlfriend now?” Varania asked.

“Uh, yes, you can call her that.”

“Is that just because you don’t remember, Ro?”

“No, it isn’t. Look, Scarlet is very important to me. She. . .she has helped me in ways that no one else ever could. She’s here. You can meet her,” Fenris said gesturing towards the bar. Hawke had not gotten far.

“I don’t want to meet her, Leto. I want you to try to remember what you and Ro had. If you could just remember that-”

“Vari, stop it,” Rowena said. “That’s not fair to any of us.”

“Fine, I’ll go talk to her,” Varania acquiesced. 

“She’s the one with the long, dark hair, talking to the blonde woman at the bar,” Fenris pointed out.

“Looks like you have a thing for brunettes, Leto” Varania said over her shoulder.

“I’m sorry about her. I talked to her on the way over. She’s excited. I guess like I was this afternoon,” Rowena explained.

“It’s fine,” Fenris said. “Thank you for bringing her.”

“So, how did you know to look for your mom and sister in the first place?” Rowena wondered.

“I’ve had visions of them over the years,” he told her.

“Oh, and none of me?” she asked.

“No. None of you,” he admitted, albeit painfully. Knowing that he once cared for this woman, knowing that she may have loved him the way Scarlet loves him, that made him sad for her.

She turned to him, and slowly reached out for his hands, which he let her take. “Do you wonder if you’ll start to have visions of me now? I mean, what if it changed things between you and her? I still love you, you know. What if what we had was more than what you and her could ever have?”

He met her eyes and shook his head. “It wouldn’t. Change things, that is. I can promise you that.”

“How can you be so sure? Don’t you want to even try?” she said scooting closer to him. She reached up for his face with a hand, running a thumb across his lips.

He watched her, let her come in and kiss him. What if it brought back some memories of her. He just had to know. 

For the sake of coming this far, he kissed her back. Her lips were incredibly soft, tentative, afraid. He leaned in, tilted his head and parted her lips with his tongue. She opened for him in a rush of breath. Her arms wrapped around his neck and shoulders, pulling herself into his body. His arms wrapped lightly around her back, accepting her.

As Varania approached Scarlet, introducing herself, Scarlet looked up and saw Fenris in a heated embrace with Rowena. Her heart leapt out of her throat, threw itself onto the floor, and shattered. She didn’t hear a word the ginger elf said. Her eyes welled up with tears that spilled over when she blinked. Everything got blurry. She handed her drink to the person standing in front of her and ran out the door.

Varania took a sip of her new drink, turned to see her friend kissing her brother, and took the recently vacated seat at the bar.

  


Outside Hawke squeezed her eyes shut tight, and leaned back against the far corner of the pub. This is what he wanted. He wanted to get his memories back and meet his family. It just so happened that he had a girlfriend back in Tevinter, and happens to still be in love with her. Somehow, Hawke didn’t actually expect that to happen. She should have. But, she didn’t. She wished this was the Hanged Man. She wished Varric, or Merrill, or even Isabela was going to come out that door any moment and hug her and tell her it was going to be all right. She wished she could walk home with Spike to hear Bodahn snoring, and to have Sandal ask her about the salamanders when he got up because she could rarely be so quiet as to not wake him.

She was far away from home, in a strange country, with the man she loved more than life itself. And she was going to be giving him back to his old life, leaving him here in Tevinter to rebuild.

A sad smile crossed her face. If he was happy, that was all that mattered. She could travel back to Kirkwall with her head held high knowing that she had accomplished what she had set out to do. She found Fenris, told him that she loved him, and helped him find his family. She would go home to her friends, and what family she had left, and she would live. And so would he. 

Now, did she wait out here for him to come find her, or did she go back to the hotel? It would be a long, lonely walk. Although the walk back to Kirkwall was going to be much longer, and much more lonely. She wished she had brought Spike.

  


  


A quick vision passed through his mind’s eye. He was a young elf, with dark brown hair, and without the markings he now bore. He was called “Leto.” He didn’t know Danarius. All he thought about was Rowena.

He broke off the kiss and pushed her away. Then, he scrubbed his face with his hands.

“What? What is it, Leto—uh, Fenris?” Rowena asked.

“I am not Leto,” he insisted. “I thank you for your help. It was a pleasure to see you again, Rowena. But, I’m not who you remember. Take care of my sister. Tell my mother . . .no, I’ll tell my mother.”

He hurried to Varania at the bar, spoke to her briefly, and left the pub in search of Hawke. He found her slumped against the wall at the back corner, in a familiar pose. Her hands were pressed flat out in front of her, her head hung low between her shoulders: the pose of trying to hold oneself up with the last ounce of effort available. As he drew nearer he could see the tears stream down her sodden cheeks silently, crawling down her neck, under the collar of her shirt.

“No, Scarlet. Darling, no,” he said, her distress palpable.

She couldn’t talk, not yet. Her voice wasn’t strong enough. She couldn’t even push herself away from the wall or stand upright in this moment. She was letting him go, and once more he was trying to walk back into her life, just to leave again. Remembering the hurt of all the times he had left before: the emptiness of when he didn’t say goodbye after her mother died, the relief when she thought she’d never have to go through that again. The shame she felt now was worse than all of those combined, because now she was to blame. She had let herself believe that he would stay; it was a fool’s hope. 

She tried to be happy for him. She tried and tried and tried. She couldn’t. Not yet. Not in this moment. 

In this moment all she could feel was the deep, gut-wrenching sorrow at the hole he was leaving in her one last time. 

One last time, she thought. I gave it one last try. I did all I could for him.

She didn’t know how she could possibly go through this ever again and survive. The hurt was too great. And she had no one here to console her, no one but him.

Somewhere, she found the strength to put her arm out towards him, to stop him from coming any closer, to prevent him from touching her, stealing the last minuscule piece of strength she dug down so far to find.

He wouldn’t let her stop him, wouldn’t let her push him away this time. He could feel her pain. Her despair pierced him like the thousand knives of the red lyrium markings. He wanted to take it all away, to stop her from hurting. He’d do anything to ease her suffering. All he could do was hold her, and tell her it was going to be all right, and she didn’t want to let him do that. 

One outstretched arm wasn’t going to stop him. He grabbed that arm, pulled her to his chest, and walked her around the back edge of the pub to a dark corner overlooking the bay and a rocky peninsula. She could barely hold herself upright. He wrapped his arms around her, and crumpled to the ground, holding her, rocking her, whispering “sshhh-sshhh” against her hair as he lost the fight with his own tears.

“Scarlet, it’s not like that. I’m guessing you saw what happened in there. I just—I just had to know. I saw her, and I saw him, Leto. He had an infatuation with her, young love. I’m not him. I don’t want to be him. And I don’t want to know anything more about him. I’m here, and I’m yours forever and ever. Maker take me, Scarlet. You’re everything to me. You’re my whole world. I am nothing without you. I’m sorry, sorry I hurt you, again. Forgive—please, forgive me?”

She wiggled her arms out from where there were pressed against his chest, folded between them, and wrapped them around him and nodded her head. 

“Do you? Do you forgive me, Scarlet?” he asked her, gasping for breath. For life. For her.

She nodded her head again, still cradled under his chin. She still couldn’t get enough air to speak. The tears fell hard and fast. If she knew love would hurt like this she thought, for a moment, that she would have tried harder not to fall. But, then she knew that wasn’t true. She wouldn’t trade this, wouldn’t trade Fenris for anything.

They stayed there for some time, sitting on the grass together in a life-or-death embrace, under a full Tevinter moon.

As her tears slowed, and her breath regained a more normal rhythm she raised her head and dug in her pouch for a handkerchief. After wiping her face, and blowing her nose she handed it to Fenris. Without hesitation he did the same and handed it back to her. She wrinkled her nose at him and he tossed it over the shrubbery into the bay.

He stood, dusted himself off, and pulled her to her feet. “Let’s walk,” he said taking her hand with a squeeze.

She squeezed back, smiling finally.

As they walked along the rocky Tevinter shoreline, hand-in-hand, she reveled in the fresh air of the Imperium and the salty air blowing in off the bay. There was no industry here, like there was in Kirkwall, no chokedamp, no Darkdown, no dragons, nor Templars. If it weren’t for the slavery, and the oppressive magocracy she might consider staying in Tevinter. Perhaps it was time to consider going back to Ferelden. Maybe they were working on rebuilding Lothering.

“Fenris, how would you feel about possibly moving to Ferelden, back to Lothering with me? Or somewhere else if Lothering isn’t the place for us? I think it might be time to leave Kirkwall, after we go back to see our friends. Maybe we can help find a balance between Orsino and Meredith. Then, we can leave. Just you and I.” She had never thought of moving away from Kirkwall before, especially not with Fenris. But, now the idea seemed like the best idea she had ever thought of.

He took her by the shoulders and looked deep into her eyes in the moonlight. “Scarlet, I’ll go anywhere with you. I’d love to see Ferelden, see where you’re from, where you grew up.”

“Thank you,” she said fighting back the wetness that appeared in the corners of her eyes again. Once she had started crying, she always found it hard to stop. “It’s just that, after what I felt tonight, I can’t imagine saying goodbye to you again. The hurt, the fear, was paralyzing. I couldn’t move, couldn’t think of anything else. I’ve fought Templars, blood mages, dragons, and Qunari! What I’m terrified of is losing you, Fenris! If you didn’t want to go, we wouldn’t go.”

With his thumbs, he wiped the tears that spilt over. “We’re in this life together now. Together, do you hear me. I’m not going anywhere without you either. I’ve worked too hard, fought too long to be the one that you love. I’d do anything for you, anything you want.”

She reached up and placed her hands on his firm chest, spread out her fingers, reveling in his warmth, his strength, slid her hands down his chiseled abdomen, around to settle on the small of his back. “I love you.”

“I love you,” he said, right before he kissed her.

  


That night, back in the solitude of their room they made love, deliberately languid. He covered her body, inch by meticulous inch, in kisses, trailing his lips over every peak and through every valley. His tattoos glowed white and blue, never red this night. She moaned and surged under him, first on her back, then on her stomach. They both knew this night that their bodies and their souls belonged to each other, for she awakened the wolf in him that hungered for her and her alone. His mere presence gave her the confidence to face not only the next day, but the dissent that awaited her back in Kirkwall.

She awoke in the early grey light of dawn still naked, with Fenris nestled behind, his knees tucked into hers. She settled backwards into his warmth, and felt him press a kiss between her shoulder blades. He knew she would still be wet from the night before, and maneuvered himself so that he could slip his throbbing morning erection into her. She rocked her round buttocks against him. Her insides clenched, massaging the long, hard length of him. The nipple of one breast tightened as he gently rolled it between his fingers. The soft weight of her breast filling his hand made him smile as he kneaded her flesh.

He raised himself up on the elbow of his other arm, and swept aside the long, dark locks that covered her neck. His lips locked onto the tender spot where her neck met her shoulder, and he suckled and nipped as she bucked, and came apart in his embrace. The spasms rocked her core. Her body shivered. Her lips quivered. Her legs twitched against his. He held her to him as tightly as he could, staying deep inside of her.

As her ecstatic groans softened to a purr, he pulled out, grabbed her by the hips, and positioned her onto her knees. With her bare ass lifted in front of him, he caressed her curves, running his hands along the swell of her hips, up the flat plane of her back, and down her sides to her narrow waist. Her body still hummed in her post orgasmic haze. She began circling her rump at him. He smacked it once, watching the flesh bounce. He bent to kiss the red mark he left. Then, he balanced the other side with the same treatment.

She found the swollen button at her center, and circled it with her fingertips, climbing once again. Fenris inserted his thumb into the slickness, and spread it upwards to her anus, gently massaging her other opening. She pushed backwards into his touch. He had no desire to fuck her there, he had fucked men before, never of his own choosing, and he preferred women. But, she liked when he fingered it, and he knew that some women who found that erotic may come like they’ve never come before when fucked there, so he considered it as he continued to spread her wetness towards it.

He decided he needed to be inside of her while he thought about it some more. He placed the tip of his cock at her dripping entrance. Her fingertips played across the tip, and ran down his length as he entered her. She reached further between her legs, and cupped his balls when he had fully sheathed himself. He didn’t move as she squeezed, and rolled his soft testicles around in her hand. His legs trembled, his cock pulsated with anticipation.

Her hand went back to the bed as she used both arms to hold herself off the mattress, arching her back, fucking him with her wet cunt. He grabbed her hips then to stay her motion, so that he could start his own rhythm. He began moving inside of her, slowly at first, withdrawing almost to the tip before sliding back into her. Being inside of her made him forget about all the troubles of the world. It was just her and him. Nothing was more ideal. Every time he made love to her he wanted to bring her more pleasure than she had ever felt before. His mind was made up.

As he increased his rhythm his fingers dug into the plump skin of her hips, his balls slapped at her wet lips. He licked his thumb and prodded her asshole with it, inserting one digit as she moaned in ecstasy.

“Do it, Fenris,” she said. “I know what you were thinking about a moment ago.” She dropped a shoulder back down to the mattress, her hand going back to her clit, rubbing it furiously. “Do it. I’m so wet.”

He withdrew, took his hand to wipe more lubrication to her other opening, and eased the tip of his cock inside.

A noise he had never before heard her make came from her mouth. “Oh, yes,” she breathed looking back at him with a seductive eye.

He continued to delve into what many women, and men, considered to be a forbidden entrance. He allowed her to stretch and compensate for his size. He’d pull out slowly, then press back in a little further. Then he’d swipe his hand across her wetness again, and add some lubrication, pull out just a little, and press back in even more until he was finally sheathed inside of her. Getting inside of her was slow going, and she was so tight he didn’t think he would fit at first. She moaned and squeaked, and groaned in ecstasy throughout the process. 

When she had accepted all of him he began to move ever so slightly in side of her. He knew he was so close to spilling, but wanted to wait until she found her climax before letting himself go. Using every bit of his self control, and moving slowly as he had ever moved, he pulled out just an inch before resheathing himself inside of her. 

The euphoria at such an unexpected sensation carried her to new heights. There was a little pain as his girth eased into her, but the kind that made her want more, wanted him to keep doing it. He took his time introducing her to this new feeling, this new entrance for penetration. She almost came when he began to move inside of her, but fought it back down. She wanted to wait for him this time. The joy of a simultaneous orgasm would surely let her reach new heights this time.

She began rubbing her clit again, in quick little circles as he pushed back into her. She rode the wave higher and higher, as he filled her with the promise of a release she had never before experienced. He stretched her, little by little, gently, with skilled precision. With patience she began to relax around him, and he could be a little more forceful. 

“Oh, it feels so good, Fenris!” she moaned.

His finger clamped down harder on her hips as he fucked her from behind. As his own pleasure rose, he closed his eyes and let his head lull backwards. Sounds he had never heard her make before encouraged him to continue pounding into her. When he felt her brace her arms and lean back into him he knew she was close. 

The rhythm of her body stayed as her muscles began to spasm uncontrollably. Her self ministrations were abandoned as she clutched the covers beneath her, riding the wave. Her back arched, her mouth opened in a silent scream which he recognized as the strongest of her orgasms. Faster and harder he slammed into her body as the tremors ran through him too. His body wanted him to stop and revel in it. He couldn’t. He continued the assault as she screamed his name, clawing at the bedclothes, pillow, and headboard. He found his release, finally shooting his seed into her abyss as his body became flooded with immeasurable heat.

Visions of a different dark haired beauty flashed in his mind, her hair blacker, her ears pointed. He opened his eyes, watched Scarlet fall sated before him. Then, that other body materialized, thinner, taller, the only other body he ever desired to have with his own. He shook his head, closing his eyes tightly. Once again there was Scarlet. 

As the blood returned to his head, and he pulled out of her she crumpled into a puddle on the linen sheets. She reached an arm out behind her, groping blindly for him. He bent over her, turning her on her side so he could cradle her to him, face-to-face. He kissed her forehead, her cheek, her nose, her lips.

“Are you all right, my love?” he asked tenderly, his voice husky.

“Mmm hmmm,” she answered, snuggling in closer.

He snaked an arm underneath her, and wrapped her tightly in both arms, holding her to him. 

It was only a memory, he told himself.  I wanted memories, I’m getting them. It’s just her and me here.  He recalled their first time together, how upset he became when the visions started, so upset that he broke it off with her on the spot. He breathed a sigh of relief now, as he let the visions come to him, accepting them with confidence, knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that no matter what he learned of his past, it would not change his future with her. He could remember all those mornings waking without her, the days that he didn’t get to hold her in his arms, or bury his nose into her hair. He had no intention of ever going back to those days. This was a new life for him, one where he was going to live out his days with Scarlet at his side, and in his bed.

The light was changing to the yellow-orange of day. He closed his eyes and let himself fall back asleep. The day could wait.


	9. Sun Blonde Vint

Chapter 9: Sun Blonde Vint

Year 8

  


  


The next evening, when they entered the Redeemer for the second night in a row, Hawke noticed the eyes of the elves as they landed on Fenris. The place was already full of patrons, human and elf alike, in various states of inebriation and undress. In all appearances the pub was quiet and safe. Still, as they made their way through the throng Fenris stayed just behind her, at her shoulder, keeping a hand on the small of her back or her hip as they waded through people. Hardly a moment was spent in which he didn’t have contact with her since they left the tavern last night.

Hawke led the way over to a small, candle lit booth. Before long two elf serving girls began arguing over who would get their table. She watched as they had a discussion behind the bar, glancing over their shoulders at him, taking no notice of her. 

“I’ll just make a lap around the perimeter to see what I can hear. I’ll be right back,” Hawke said, laying a hand on Fenris’ thigh under the table.

He laid his hand on top of hers. “No. We’re not splitting up tonight.” 

She felt him squeeze her hand tightly, and looked at him. His face was in shadows, but the flame danced in his eyes. Her heart quickened. The sounds of the bustling tavern faded into the background. She could feel her heartbeat in her neck. 

“Scarlet?” Fenris said.

“Huh?” Had he asked her a question?

“What do you want to drink, milady?” the elf who had won the table asked her.

Hawke shook her head, clearing it. “I’ll have a glass of the Sun Blonde Vint.” 

The girl tried to keep it under her breath, but Hawke heard her mutter, “So will I,” as she walked away. 

“The girls can’t keep their eyes off of you, Fenris,” Hawke said, smiling at him.

“So, I’ve noticed. Perhaps it will help us get the information we need tonight,” he replied.

“Oh, you’ve noticed, have you? Are you letting yourself enjoy the attention then?” she teased.

“No. I notice everything. Behind you there’s a table full of drunken apprentices bragging about how many women they have slept with, and if they prefer humans or elves. Towards the door to the hallway in the back there is a pair of male elves trying to decide if they should find some other place or just take each other right there. At the bar there are four females: one elf and three humans, and five males: two elves, and three humans waiting for drinks because one barkeep broke a glass and the other barkeep cut herself on it. One of the women is debating on whether or not to offer healing and if it would get her a drink any faster. There are two mages by the fire who are trying to decide if I’m your slave.”

Hawke’s eyes narrowed at the men in front of the fireplace. They looked almost too haughty to even be in a place where elves and humans were served the same drinks.

“And there is one man, twirling his moustache, who just walked in the door wondering if he’ll be leaving alone tonight,” Fenris observed. 

The server returned with their drinks.

“Elsa,” Fenris began. “Would you happen to know if Dorian Pavus is in attendance this evening?”

“Of course, ser. He just walked in,” Elsa said, inclining her head towards the man he had just noticed.

Fenris took a long swallow of the dark Dwarven ale he ordered. Hawke’s eyes found the moustached man. Fenris had caught the server’s name, and already found who they were looking for. All she had managed to do was conjure up a little jealousy, and she felt ashamed. Last night he had certainly shown her that she could trust him, and depend on him. Now, he needed her to do that for him, so that he could finally meet his own mother.

“Shall I go talk to him?” she asked, taking another sip of the Tevinter wine.

“Let’s wait until he settles down, first,” Fenris suggested. 

Hawke continued sipping her wine, trying to be even partially as observant as Fenris. “Do you do this everywhere you go?”

“What? Take inventory of my surroundings?”

“Yes.”

“Of course I do. Don’t you?”

“No, I don’t,” Hawke answered, feeling a little more anxious than a moment ago. “Once I got to Kirkwall I started being more observant because I was watching out for my own neck after all. But, I’ve never taken note of every single person in a place and what they were doing at any given moment. I don’t know how I’ve even managed to stay alive for this long in Kirkwall, now that you point this out to me!”

“I had to. Danarius would stalk me around the mansion. I had to know where he was at all times so that he didn’t . . . accost me. It didn’t take me long to learn that. If he got behind me and caught me unawares he’d . . . have his hands on me. By that time there was nothing I could do to dissuade him. Not only did the markings burn when he touched me, but he wanted me to be affectionate with him. It was worse when I didn’t know it was coming. When I could steel myself for it . . . well, somehow it wasn’t quite so bad.” He took a long draw on his ale.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring it up. We don’t have to talk about him.” She felt foolish for making him rehash his time as a slave.

“He’s dead. My Mother is the last thing he’s keeping from me. I feel like after I meet her, I’ll truly be free of him. Besides, I have nothing to hide from you, Scarlet. Telling you about my time with him helps to cleanse me of it. Having someone else know besides me, it helps lighten the load. I feel like when you know something about my past, it’s one less thing that I bear on my own. It makes it easier.” He looked at her. “Life with you is easier.”

She turned to him, inching closer, laying her leg over his. Snaking an arm around his shoulders, and burying her fingers in the long hair at the nape of his neck, she drew her lips to his ear. “I hope to continue to make life easier for you, but I’m probably going to make plenty of things harder along the way too, you know.”

“Well, I’m counting on it,” he said, his lip curling at the corner as one eyebrow lifted.

She curled a platinum tendril around her finger and pulled. “I’m serious.”

He glared at her. “Do that again and you’ll keep making things harder.”

Her bottom lip curled between her teeth and she worried at it as she lowered her lashes at him. She took a handful of hair in her hand, closed it into a fist, and tightened her grip at the base of his skull.

His tattoos faintly glowed white for the briefest of moments. He set down his ale and slid his hand under the table between her legs. The leather of her pants was tight against her crotch. He rubbed the seam, working it against her mound. 

She gasped quietly, still holding her lip between her teeth, the narrow slits of her eyes inviting him to continue. Her hips worked ever so slightly against his hand, encouraging him.

As he leaned into her, placing his lips to her ear, he intensified the pressure from his hand, matching her rhythm. “Tonight, I’m going to make you beg me to fuck you. After if I tie your wrists to the headboard, you’re going to be lying there, immobilized, with my face buried between these thighs. You’ll be blindfolded you so that you won’t be able to see what’s coming next. It might be me, right between those perky breasts.”

In his ear she whispered, “Fenris, you’re going to make me come right here, aren’t you?”

“I should make you wait. But, I’m guessing that you’ve never had an orgasm in a public place like this before. What will you do, Scarlet?” He rolled his fingertips down, pressing the heel of his hand to her mound, cupping her. 

“Chew through my lip? Uh, Fenris, I don’t know if this is such a good . . . uh, idea.”

“Oh, I do. I guarantee you’re not going to be the only one getting off in here tonight, either. This place is full of sex.” He took her earlobe roughly between his teeth, pinching down on it hard and letting it slide through quickly. “Come for me, Scarlet. Come apart in my hands.”

With one hand she clamped down on the back of his neck. With the other she reached for his crotch but he swatted it away. Instead, she laid it across the inside of his thigh and squeezed with all her might.

His palm circled her center, again and again, rocking her, raising her to the peak of ecstasy. 

“Fenris, I—uh, I—uh, don’t know if I-I-I-I can do this heeeeere.”

“It’s too late to go back now, Scarlet. I’m committed.” 

“Oh shit. Fuck. What do I do-o-o?”

“Look at me,” he said, furthering his ministrations.

She met his eyes.

“You’re going to come for me, come hard. You’re going to look in my eyes. And you’re going to be quiet for once. You’re going to wonder if anyone in here has noticed what we’re doing. Do they have any idea where my hand is, or how wet you are, or that you’ve soaked through your leather pants? Can anyone guess what you let me do to you this morning? Or would they notice if you slid those pants down to your knees and straddled me here in this pub? Should we go back into the hallway where I can take you up against the wall? Or should we get one of those private booths with the curtains? 

Can you wait until we get back to the inn later to have me inside of you? Perhaps I’ll take you outside, in the shadows on the walk back. I could press you up against a brick wall in the alley so hard that it takes you a moment to catch your breath, pull those trousers down around your thighs and sink two fingers into your wet cunt, as you moan into my neck. Or, maybe I’ll bend you over a park bench with a fistful of hair and fuck you from behind. Lift you up and let you wrap your legs around my back while I have yours pressed against a cold wall, fucking you in the shadows.”

His fingers never stopped moving. He continued feeding the growing fire in her.

“Will someone walk by? Will they see you being fucked in a dark alley? Will you cry out in pleasure or will you try to hold it in? I’m going to fuck you so hard you won’t be able to contain it, Scarlet. I won’t let you be quiet then. I’ll pleasure you until you call out in the night. The entire walk back you’ll be waiting for it, wondering when it will happen. In which dark corner shall I ravage you?”

Chewing on her lip she held his gaze. The desire, plainly written on his face in the heat of the moment, was reflected in the dark green of his eyes as they reflected the flickering flame of the candle on their table. The love he bore for her and, how much she meant to him was evident in the depths of his slanted elven eyes. She gnawed on her lip as the pressure intensified deep in her core, steadily climbing as her insides pulsated, looking for something to grab onto, something that wasn’t there at the moment. The smells of the fire, the blending aromas of wine, beer, and whiskey, the sex oozing off of everyone in the tavern was evident now to her arousal heightened.

Her grip tightened on his neck when he slid his fingertips back over her clit. The leather had warmed and softened, melding to her body, allowing him to press his fingers between her nether lips. The friction of the seam being driven back and forth across her aroused body drove her higher. 

Fenris continued whispering to her as they maintained the intimate eye contact. “The way you bite down on your lip makes me want to rip off your pants and feel my fingers inside of your slick cunt, bury them deep inside you. I want tear off your bodice and latch onto one of those dark pink nipples, biting at it the way you’re doing to that lip. I want to entertain your body, tantalizing you until you beg me to fuck you.”

His fingertips circled her clit, faster now. As the rocking motion of her hips stilled and her grip on him tightened he increased the pressure. With a corner of his lip curled, and a cocked eyebrow he pushed her over the precipice which she’d been nearing. She came apart in his hands. All of the muscles in her body tensed as she gave to his will. Her mouth parted as she gulped in heaving breaths. Her shoulders dipped. Her breasts strained at the confines of the bodice lacing. Her abdomen clenched and shook. Tremors rippled through her from head to toe. The candle flame danced as the candle scooted across the table which shook with the vibration of her body.

As her face softened, her grip on him relaxed, and a sigh escaped he stayed his hand. Hawke’s lips curled into a smile, and her eyelids drooped lazily in post-orgasmic haze. He picked up his mug and took a swallow. She did the same. Her eyes darted around wondering if anyone took notice of them. It did not appear so. Everyone was preoccupied with their own business . . . or pleasure.

Rearranging herself on the bench she leaned her back against him. He curled one arm around her, protectively, or perhaps possessively, as she snuggled into his chest. She absently twirled her wine stem between her fingers as she enjoyed the occasional glare she caught from a passing elf. She noticed now that it wasn’t just the women, but the men too whose gazes traveled in Fenris’ direction. Every single elf in the room had looked at them at least once. She smiled, and let her head fall back to his shoulder. She had had two glasses of wine. Her head lolled over to his neck.

He pressed a kiss to her temple.

“Every elf in this place has checked you out at least once,” she informed him.

“I’m aware.”

“How do you feel about that?” she asked.

“I don’t.”

“It’s got to at least boost your ego a bit,” she said, poking him lightly in the ribs with her elbow.

“No. It doesn’t. It can boost yours if you like though,” he said rubbing her palm absently with his thumb.

“Well, it does. You’re mine,” she said, without thought.

“I am, indeed,” he agreed.

“They can’t have you.”

“They can’t have you either. You’re mine, in the only way a person should ever be possessed by another,” he said, before pressing his lips to her temple again. 

In Kirkwall they had never been especially affectionate in public during the time of their relationship. But, it was different now. She wanted the world to know that she loved this man.

“I like that sentiment,” she replied, fighting heavy eyelids. “Shall we go talk to this Dorian fellow before I fall asleep on you?”

“Yes, we should. Wake up,” he said as he nudged her head with his shoulder.

“Is he still sitting at the table by the fire with the same person?”

“Yes, he hasn’t done much except for drink wine, twirl his moustache, and ogle a passing gentleman here and there. He has an extremely refined palate. I’m surprised he’s even in a place such as this.”

“By the looks you’ve received tonight, I’m pretty sure that’s what everyone thinks about you too.”

“I think you should do the introductory part, Scarlet. You’re . . . a people person. I’m not. Also, he’s a mage from the house of a magister. I don’t know how he’ll react to be addressed by an elf.”

“All right, Babe. I got this,” she said, giving him a few pats on his chest.

“Babe?” he asked as she got up, stretched, finished the last sip of her wine, and sauntered over to Dorian’s table.

  


Dorian Pavus had the perfect olive-skinned Tevinter complexion of a mage who spent very little time outdoors. His dark hair was worn heavily coiffed, swept away from his face. His moustache was expertly waxed and curled at the ends, with a small, perfectly trimmed triangular patch of black hair sitting under his full bottom lip. His steel grey eyes looked up at her from behind kohl-rimmed lids with only a hint of surprise.

“Ah, finally an introduction. Your beady Fereldan eyes have been boring a hole into the back of my head since I arrived. To what do I owe the honor?” he asked, standing.

“Hawke, Scarlet Hawke of Kirkwall,” she said extending her hand to him.

Dorian took it, hand-to-hand, palm-to-palm, in a style much more familiar to mages than the forearm-to-forearm greeting commonly used amongst the ne’er-do-wells of Kirkwall. “Dorian Pavus of Qarinus. Hawke! The Champion of Kirkwall?”

“Ah, yes. That one,” she conceded.

“To what do I owe this great honor? Please have a seat, I’ll get us a bottle of Tevinter’s finest, or at least finer,” he exclaimed, gesturing towards the bar.

“Somehow I forget that my name precedes me. Though, I don’t often leave Kirkwall. And have never been this far away from it.”

“Is your . . .manservant—”

She interrupted him, “Life partner.”

“Ah, very well, then. Would he like to join us as well. He’s making me nervous back there. He has a very . . . large . . . sword,” he enunciated. 

“He’s Tevinter. He wasn’t sure how one of your status would react to being approached by an elf.”

Dorian waved his hand above his head. “My status. Forget it, please. I do.”

Hawke made eye contact with Fenris who came to stand next to her.

Hawke smiled at Fenris and introduced him. “Fenris, meet Dorian Pavus. Dorian, Fenris has a unique request to ask of you.”

“Sit, sit!” Dorian insisted, offering a hand to Fenris.

“Thank you,” Fenris said taking the offered hand before taking a seat next to Hawke.

“Felix, would you mind excusing us for a moment,” Dorian asked his companion.

“Certainly not, ser,” Felix said, pardoning himself from the table, taking his wine with him.

“What can I do for you, Fenris?” Dorian inquired, accepting the glasses and bottle of wine from the server.

“I believe my Mother is in the employ of your family’s household. I would like to know if it is possible for you to arrange a meeting between us.” Fenris stated, succinctly. 

Dorian’s smile extended all the way up to his eyes, which crinkled at the corners. “Oh, I’m sure I can do that. What’s her name?” 

“I don’t know her name, you see,” Fenris admitted.

“You’ve never met then? Still, we only have three or four elf women in our employ who are of an age to be your mother. I can surely have it determined easily enough. Would you like to come by tomorrow, after lunch? Most of the household chores should be finished by then. You could spend a few hours with her in the afternoon. How does that sound?” Dorian took a long sip from his glass to taste the freshly opened bottle.

“That sounds alarmingly simple,” Fenris answered. 

Dorian handed Fenris a glass, his smile and his moustache turning up at one corner giving him a rather mischievous look. “Not everything has to be complicated here in Tevinter, though I’m sure that’s not your experience, nor is it mine in most circumstances.” 

“Also, she’ll know me as Leto, not Fenris.”

“Ah, more mystery,” Dorian said, nodding at Fenris with a raised eyebrow. “I like it.”

  


  


The next day, they rose many hours after sunup sore and satiated. On their way to the Pavus house they had a modest lunch at a cafe in the square. Hawke noticed that Fenris received all together different looks than he had received last night, but they didn’t lack in quantity. She was prepared to gouge out the eye of the first person to even consider saying something to them.

Fenris caught wind of the expression on her face and shot her a disapproving glare, mouthing the word “no.”

“I’m looking forward to returning to Tevinter,” she said, a sarcastic smile splayed across her lips.

“About as much as I am,” Fenris assured her.

Afterward, the walk to the Pavus house was surprisingly pleasant. The road was lined on both sides in gardens filled with flowers in blooms of pink, lavender, and periwinkle blue. Flowers she had never seen before blossomed in orange, gold, and green. Shrubs bearing both fruit and flowers were trimmed into ornamental works of art. Long necked birds, elegant horses, and regal lions watched them pass with leafy eyes. Stone benches sat under trees invitingly. Gazebos beckoned to her as the perfect place for a quick lovers tryst.

The house of Pavus was unmistakable. The outside was painted slate blue, its windows adorned with heliotrope shutters. Live peacocks paraded the grounds and roosted in trees. Two peacock shaped topiaries stood sentinel at the gate which swung open before she had even touched it. Two peacock gargoyles spied on them from under the eaves. At the door they were welcomed into the opulent Pavus estate by an elderly elven gentleman dressed in the finery of a butler. The towering double doors closed behind them, unaided, making nary a sound. The ivory walls of the grand foyer stood two stories high with a curving velvet carpeted stairway leading up to the lofty second floor. A sparkling crystal chandelier hung over head the sprawling marble floor beneath their feet.

“Master Dorian is expecting you both. Will you kindly permit me show you to the drawing room?” the elderly elf asked, a hand extended down the hallway.

“Yes, thank you,” Hawke answered with a nod.

The drawing room was through the first door on the left. It was half library, half tea room. Cherry wood bookshelves lined the far wall top to bottom, a matching wheeled ladder hung from a track on the ceiling. The cypress floor was polished to a mirror finish. A large paisley rug in golds, blues, and purples decorated the center of the room.

“Would you take a refreshment, messere?” the butler asked, standing next to a peacock carved in marble, half as tall as he was, its tail splayed out holding up a glass table top. A steaming tea pot sat atop a shining silver trivet next to a plate of pastries.

Hawke answered, “Yes, tea would be delightful. Thank you.”

After pouring a cup of tea and handing it to Hawke he turned to Fenris. “And for you, messere?”

Fenris tried not to let the surprise show on his face at being offered a beverage in the home of a Tevinter Magister. He couldn’t count the number of times that Leandra had told him it was rude to refuse refreshments when they were offered to you in someone’s home. He knew it was a reflection of the guest’s trust upon their host. But, he had served so many people in his days, that part of him hated being served by others. It took countless visits to the Hawke estate, countless offers of food and drink from Bodahn and Leandra before Fenris started to accept when he was first offered.

After spending enough time with the Hawke family he finally realized it was out of kindness and generosity that they offered to feed him and slake his thirst while he stayed in their home. It was a sign that they enjoyed his company and wanted him to stay. They wanted to share their plenty with their loved ones. He counted himself fortunate to have spent the time with Hawke’s mother while she was alive. It was the first time anyone had felt like a mother to him. Every time she brought him a cup of tea, or a glass of wine, or a tumbler of whiskey he thanked her and kissed her upon the cheek or the hand. Every cookie or biscuit she took from the oven and brought to him, still steaming, tasted of her love and devotion to her family, which she had welcomed him into with open arms.

He swallowed the lump in his throat thinking how much he missed her presence in the house, then thinking of how much Scarlet must miss her.

“Your name, good ser?” Fenris asked.

The butler stood up a bit straighter. “Geoffrey, my lord.”

“I am Fenris. And I’ll have tea also, Geoffrey. Thank you,” he said, a rare smile upon his face. 

Leandra may be gone, but my mother still lives. I’ll meet her in just a few moments. The thought made him both happy and sad, knowing it may just be this one time.

Geoffrey handed him a bone white porcelain cup and saucer rimmed in gold. “Master Dorian will join you shortly. If there is nothing else?”

“Thank you, Geoffrey. You’ve taken excellent care of us,” Hawke said with a nod.

Silently, Geoffrey departed.

“Mother would be proud of you,” she said sitting down on the love seat. The wooden frame matched the cherry wood of the bookcase. The royal purple velvet cushion was quilted with golden rope trim. She ran her fingers over the carved peacock head of the armrest. The surface was worn smooth, and ever so slightly discolored by the hundreds of fingers to do so before her.

“Thank you. I like to think this old dog can still learn some new tricks,” he said sitting next to her.

The sofa faced the window over looking the garden in front of the house. They watched as the large birds meandered around the flowers of late spring. Neither of them had even finished their tea yet when Dorian came through the double doors.

“Scarlet, Fenris! So good to see you both again,” he said with open arms. He embraced Scarlet firmly, kissing both her cheeks, and shook hands with Fenris. 

“Scarlet, the grace of your countenance was lost in the poor lighting of the pub last night. What a beauty you are! That hair! You’re lucky to have such a strong man on your arm, lest you’d wake up in a back alley, hair hacked off at the scalp by a black market wigmaker,” Dorian praised as he took a handful of her hair, and lifted it, letting it fall in the sunlight.

“Oh,” she said, flattered. “Why, thank you ever so much, Dorian!”

“And Fenris, your mother would have talked about you until the peacock crowed if I had let her. She was overjoyed to hear of our meeting. My own Mother, who is much less pleasant than yours, I assure you, gave her the rest of the day off. This room is yours for as long as you like it. But, I imagine she would like to get out of the house. Perhaps you two can take her to dinner. Just make sure to bring her home around dusk if you please. My Mother will worry so if a woman of her age is out later than that.

‘It just isn’t done, Dorian. A woman of decorum is not out past dark!’ she has said to me on more than one occasion. Seeing as how I have never taken a woman out, let alone kept one out past dark, I’m not sure why she continues to give me that piece of advice,” Dorian speculated.

Hawke took Dorian’s hands in hers. “Thank you, Dorian. It’s too kind of you to do this for us. It was unexpected.”

Geoffrey opened the door and a thin, elderly elven woman walked in. Her grey hair was pinned up into a tight bun. She wore clothing befitting a woman who was well paid, albeit one who worked for a living. Her dress was an olive green plush fustian velvet trimmed in dark grey. She wore small silver studs in here ears, and a thin silver band on one finger.

“Kalani, let me introduce you to my new friend, Scarlet Hawke,” Dorian said, as the elven woman held onto her emotions, approaching her first. “Scarlet, this is Kalani Thenhasan, my Mother’s cherished seamstress.”

Kalani laid her hands gently on Hawke’s shoulders, then embraced her softly. “Thank you for bringing my son back to me.”

“I’ll take my leave,” Dorian said, closing the door behind him, unobtrusively.

Fenris was taken aback at the similarities between his mother and Scarlet. They were of a similar heights, and both had green eyes. He guessed that by the size of the bun on Kalani’s head she likely had as much hair as Scarlet did.

Kalani held Scarlet at arms length and looked her over from head to toe. “I hear that my son has chosen you, the Champion of Kirkwall to travel with through life now. It brings me great joy to know that he has one so strong and honorable at his side. Your beauty matches the tales of your courage, Champion.”

“Please, Lady Thenhasan, call me Scarlet,” Hawke said, smiling at the woman.

“Dorian tells me you are life partners. Please, call me Mother,” Kalani offered.

Fenris watched as she dabbed at the corners of her eyes. Hawke reached an arm backwards to him. He took the offered hand and allowed her to pull him forward.

“Mother, I’d like you to meet your son, Fenris,” Hawke said, choking ever so slightly on his name. “I regret to inform you, that he has precious little memories of you, due to the lyrium markings he received at the hands of the magister he previously served. He has only had visions of you in the past few years. There are no memories before receiving the tattoos, not even your name, or his own, I’m afraid.”

“When Dorian came to me late last night, I suspected as much when he said that we had never met before. I spent nearly 20 years raising the boy. Surely I had met him. But, I hadn’t seen him since he sold himself to Magister Danarius. I heard he was called Fenris, but I was forbidden to see him after the markings. I thought perhaps that my Leto was gone. It was confirmed last night. I suppose I haven’t quite had time to grieve yet. But, here he stands before me.” She turned to him then, tears in her eyes. Her hands went to his face, tracing the markings on his chin. 

Hawke’s touch over the years readied him for the touch of another. He did not flinch when her hands came towards his face. And the pain did not come. It was not quite like Hawke’s tingling touch. The hands of his Mother left a soothing, calm, smooth feeling in their wake, as if she had applied a healing salve to him.

“Your face is the same. Only your hair used to be a rich brown, the colors of the bark of the trees in the dales. Other than that, I still see my son. Though, I did not call him Fenris. Why did you choose to keep the name he gave you, might I ask?”

Fenris stood there in front of her, letting her run her hands down his chin, and through his hair. “I do not know Leto. I have none of his memories. I know Fenris. I have fought for every single thing Fenris has lived for, and everything he nearly died for. It is not that I keep the name he gave me, for it matters not who chose the name. What matters is that I made Fenris who he is today. I know Fenris. And he stands before you with pride.”

“That is a valid answer,” she said taking his hands in hers. “I thought I would have a hard time not calling you Leto. But, after that, I too can be proud of Fenris.”

“Thank you. Varania did not feel the same way. However, she battles her own demons,” Fenris told her.

“You met Varania? Oh, that does warm my heart that you two have already reunited. But, I take it things didn’t go so well between you and your sister?”

“Not exactly. She was with Rowena, who I had no memories of until a few surfaced after I met her two days ago,” Fenris informed his mother.

“Rowena and your sister. Your poor head must be so full. Why don’t you start at the beginning, dear. Help your Mother keep it all straight, will you?”

Fenris and Hawke took their spots on the love seat again, while Kalani pulled up a chair in front of them. He told her an abridged version of his time with Danarius, meeting Hawke, living in Kirwall, ending up back with Danarius again, nursing Hawke back to health, and then returning to Tevinter on his own. Then, his eyes lit up as he told the story, for the first time, of how Hawke traveled all the way across the Free Marches and Tevinter to track him down and walk back into his life. 

He knew that Kalani could see the love between them, feel the sincerity of their promise to each other, and his heart was replete. 

“Fenris, I am grateful beyond measure that you have found me and shared your life with me. I cannot thank you enough. The fact that the Leto I knew appears to be gone is but a secret, possibly to be discovered again one day. Everything Leto was is still within. You embody him wholly, even though you do not hold his memories in your heart.”

“Thank you . . . M-mother. That is comforting to know,” Fenris said as Hawke took his hand.

“Would you like me to fill in some of the gaps?” Kalani asked.

“Yes. Yes, I think I would,” he answered.

“As bad as Danarius was, someone far worse purchased your sister and I after you sold yourself into slavery to try to keep us out of it. The elves in the alienage were being treated so poorly that we all felt we had no other choice. We were safer in the home of a Magister than in the streets. Danarius coddled you, let you have contact with Vari and I. We were not treated well. We would have been better off in the alienage. When you discovered that you begged Danarius to buy us too. But, he had no desire to share your affections with anyone. So, he offered to buy us and give us our freedom if you would submit yourself as a test subject for the lyrium tattoos. He was honest with you, told you what he knew about them, which was that he would be able to control you with them. 

You felt it was worth the cost. Varania and I were freed. Magister Danarius took us to the Magisterium with him to sign the documents. Varania went on to become an apprentice and I found work here with Lady Pavus. We never heard from you again. All we knew was that you survived the process. Rowena was lost without you for quite some time. She couldn’t forgive herself. She, luckily had always been an apprentice, escaping a life of servitude. She was hard on herself, felt that she should have been able to save you, save all of us.

The two of you grew up together. You were always more than just friends, even from a young age I knew there was more there. You loved each other for many years. I’m not trying to diminish what you and Scarlet have. I can clearly see that you share the deepest of bonds. But, what you have now, that’s what you wanted with Ro. It just never quite got that far. You always held something back. I know why now,” Kalani said, her gaze settling on Hawke with an honest smile.

“Your sister and her were always the closest of friends. You had a hard time sharing Rowena between the two of you more often than not. You were all incredibly protective of each other. I have a feeling that when you saw your sister, her nurturing instinct kicked in, and the two of you butt heads over it.”

Fenris looked down at Scarlet’s hand in his, then up at her caring face. “Yes. We did. And you’re right. She was very pushy when it came to Rowena. I hurt everyone’s feelings that night, including Scarlet’s. And I rushed out of there without properly saying goodbye to either of them, I’m afraid. But, no matter what, Scarlet always comes first,” he said squeezing her hand.

“What’s happened between the two of you has been especially intense, hasn’t it? You haven’t been further than an arm’s length from each other since I walked in,” Kalani noticed.

“It has. We have died and been brought back to life in the arms of one another. We are willing to sacrifice ourself so that the other may live,” Hawke said looking at Fenris. “And now, neither of us is willing to consider living without the the other. There is no life for me if he is not in it.” She held back the tears as long as she could.

He looked at her too, knowing the emotion that she would be baring to him. His own was hanging on by a thread sitting here with his Mother for the first time. He swallowed the lump in his throat. “I cannot even exist without her by my side. She took her last breath in my arms a couple of months ago, and I nearly died with her in that moment. I could not see how it was possible to go on living. There was so much blood.” He reached a hand up to her face, cupping her cheek.

She turned her lips into his palm and pressed a kiss to it, closing her eyes. 

“Oh, well you sure know how to make an old woman cry,” Kalani said, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief. “When is the wedding?”

“Wedding?” Scarlet exclaimed.

Fenris cleared his throat. “We haven’t talked about getting married, Mother.”

“Kevesh, why not?”

“Things are . . . tense in Kirkwall. There’s never really been a good time to discuss something that feels so . . . frivolous,” Hawke told her.

“Are you telling me your mother doesn’t hound you for grandchildren?” Kalani asked.

“Her Mother died several years ago. But, she too would have liked to have seen us married, I do believe,” Fenris said.

“Yes, she would have welcomed you into the family with open arms,” Hawke promised him.

“She did, Scarlet,” Fenris assured her. “Every time she brought me a cup of tea and a hot buttered scone she welcomed me into the family.”

“She sounds like she was a wonderful mother,” Kalani mused happily.

“She was,” Fenris and Hawke said simultaneously, smiling at each other.

“Scarlet, do you want to get married?” Fenris asked her.

“I—uh—yes. Some day,” she said, unusually timid.

Fenris stood up from the love seat, unbuttoned a small pouch on his belt, reached in with one finger, and got down on his knee in front of her and his Mother. “Scarlet Leandra Hawke, I fall further and further in love with you, in both the moments when we are together, as well as those that we spend apart. Will you give me the gift of marrying me?”

He held out a tarnished silver ring in the shape of a shield bearing two hawks. 

“The Amell family crest! Where did you get it?” she asked holding out her hand to him.

“Your Mother gave it to me before I left for Tevinter, the day she died. She said there would be a right time to give it to you, and that I would know when that time would be,” he answered her.

“As usual Mother was right.” Scarlet looked into Fenris’ eyes as the tears overflowed her own. She could no longer hold them back. “Yes, of course I’ll marry you!”

He slid the ring onto her awaiting finger, and rose to his feet to kiss her. 

“Ma serannas, Mythal. You give me a son and another daughter in one day,” Kalani exclaimed.


	10. Just You and Me

Chapter 10: Just You and Me

Year 8

  


  


Later that evening, after a lovely dinner in a quaint cafe, they returned with Kalani to the Pavus house. 

Kalani embraced Scarlet, kissing her on the cheek. “Take care of him for me, da’len.”

“I will, Mother,” Hawke told her, hugging the woman one more time.

She hugged Fenris then, holding him until he relaxed into her embrace. “Ma vhenan. You’ve come back to me, and I am grateful. I know not when I will see you again, but my heart sings. If there is a ceremony I will be there. Please, write me, won’t you?”

“Of course,” Fenris answered her. “Though tensions in the South are high. It is not likely to be any time soon.”

“It is of no hurry. I can clearly see that you have already promised your lives to each other. It will merely be a formality. But, mothers do love weddings,” she said, stroking Fenris’ cheek.

“We will invite you and Dorian both,” Hawke assured her. “We are in his debt for introducing us to you.”

“Did I hear my name mentioned in a sentence regarding a wedding? Don’t let my Mother hear. I don’t want her to think it’s my own!” Dorian entered the foyer wearing royal blue silk brocade robes. Even in his nightclothes his hair was perfectly coiffed, his moustache curled on the ends, his stark grey eyes kohl rimmed. 

Kalani turned to him. “They got engaged, in the drawing room this afternoon. Isn’t that wonderful?”

“Quite! Of course, I’ll secure passage for us both to attend. Do let us know,” Dorian said, excitedly.

Hawke embraced Dorian, who let the look of shock pass from his face quickly, embracing her in return.

“Thank you, Dorian. If there is ever anything we can do to repay this kindness, please do not hesitate to ask,” Hawke offered.

“Please, do not feel beholden to me. Your happiness and appreciation is payment enough. However, beautiful Champion, I will count yours amongst my few treasured friendships,” Dorian told her running his hands down the length of her long hair one more time, in admiration.

“Dorian, I look forward to the day when our paths cross again, truly,” Hawke told him.

Dorian glanced over Hawke to Fenris. “Good luck taking care of her, Fenris, my dear. I think she’s going to be a handful.”

“I will. And you can count on it,” Fenris said.

  


  


Both Hawke and Fenris felt that they were needed back in Kirkwall, thus the journey back was harried. Luckily, they made excellent time crossing Tevinter with the pair of Imperial Warmbloods that Dorian insisted they take. 

“A couple of older geldings,” he told them, “. . . retired from pulling the carriage. Mother will be more than happy that they have one more purpose to serve. She’ll consider them an appropriate gift for the return of Kalani’s long-lost son, who we’ve heard so much about. Also, when she hears that they went to the Champion of Kirkwall she’ll have something to boast about during her weekly game of Minchiate.”

The stable master insisted that the fact that the horses were retired didn’t mean they weren’t still in the prime of their lives. He assured them that by interchanging a good marching walk with a swift run now and then would keep the lively team suitably appeased.

Hawke’s father had taught her, Bethany, and Carver to ride when they were children in Lothering. The farming village had no shortage of old plow horses who always welcomed a sack full of apples and a kind word in exchange for riding lessons. 

Fenris had learned to ride during his time since he first left Danarius. “I didn’t walk every mile between Kirkwall and Tevinter, Scarlet,” he said with narrowed eyes.

They arrived back in Kirkwall just in time to take part in the war that had been bubbling under the surface between Meredith, the Templar Knight-Commander, and Orsino, the Circle’s First Enchanter. They stabled the horses at the last stop outside of town, Kirkwall being every bit of impossible to get a horse into because of terrain. They paid the livery owner a month of board for the pair, and would discuss what to do with the horses at a later date. Hawke had a niggling feeling that they might be needed again soon.

As Hawke and Fenris made their way through the overflowing streets of Kirkwall they knew that something was amiss. Templars filled the streets, ransacking homes looking for mages. Fathers and mothers ushered children to safety, often heading towards Darktown, of all places. 

What did they know? Hawke wondered.

They made their way through the bloody streets towards the Gallows on instinct. Their instinct was right. 

Aveline, Anders, Varric, Merrill, Isabela, Carver, Knight-Captain Cullen, and Knight-Commander Meredith gathered in the Gallows courtyard along with Sebastian Vale, the Prince of Starkhaven. Tempers were high, and weapons were brandished and bloodied.

“Hawke!” Aveline exclaimed, spotting her first. “Thank the Maker.”

“Finally, the Champion returns, her pup in tow,” the Knight-Commander sneered.

Hawke drew her staff. “Watch your mouth, Knight-Commander, or I’m like to remove it permanently if you can’t choose your words more carefully.”

“That’s not helping, Hawke,” Aveline stated.

“What’s going on here?” Fenris asked.

Varric spoke up. “We killed Orsino. He turned to blood magic, attacked some Templars right out here in front of everyone. We had no choice. Now, the Knight-Commander thinks we need to invoke the Rite of Annulment on the entire Circle. Our Courageous Guard-Captain has been trying to talk her out of it. I’m sure glad you showed up in time.”

“The First Enchanter turned to blood magic, and the Rite of Annulment?” Hawke was flustered. “What have I missed?”

“A lot, Hawke. You were gone a long time. I hope he’s worth it,” Anders said looking at her pointedly.

“Meredith, the Rite of Annulment isn’t necessary. Without a First Enchanter to lead and unify them, the mages will be fighting amongst themselves. I’m sure we can convince them to turn over any lingering blood mages,” Hawke attempted to reason.

“Fine, Champion. I’ll let you go in there with your rag tag group of bandits and take care of it yourself, sans Templars,” Meredith presented to her.

“No. They will need a Templar if they are to head into a Circle full of maleficarum. I will accompany them,” Cullen offered.

“Of course I’m going with you,” Carver insisted. “That’s my sister after all.”

“You both go unsanctioned,” Meredith spat.

“Thank you gentlemen. I’m sure your assistance will be invaluable,” Hawke accepted.

Anders’ eyes glowed brilliantly blue, the invisible fissures of his skin split to reveal the light of Justice below. 

A rumble began just then as everyone ducked and looked skyward for an ill-timed dragon. No dragon was seen, but a brilliant red light emanated from the Chantry which could be seen in the distance. Then, a column of light shot through the roof of the Chantry as it exploded, raining down shards of stained glass, stone, and concrete.

“Anders, what have you done?” Hawke screamed over the din of destruction.

The rumbling voice of Justice rang out. “There can be no middle ground, no compromise when it comes to her. She will destroy us all.”

“He’s right,” Meredith yelled. “I hereby invoke the Rite of Annulment!”

“The Circle didn’t even do this, Commander!” Cullen proclaimed.

“This abomination is responsible for the destruction of our Chantry and the death of Grand Cleric Elthina. I want his head on a pike, Knight-Captain!” Meredith ordered. It seemed as if a red fog began to grow around her.

Cullen drew his sword and turned to Anders.

Hawke lowered her staff at him and dropped to a fighting stance. “Over my dead body.”

Fenris leapt in front of her, his sword in his hands, en garde.

Isabela’s daggers were drawn. Varric shouldered Bianca. Merrill called up on the power of nature; a green mist surrounded her. 

Carver stepped in front of Cullen, his weapon sheathed, and placed a hand upon his captain’s breastplate. “I won’t let you hurt my sister. I do not want to fight you. You are a noble man, messere.”

“Kill them! Kill them all! Every mage in Kirkwall will die!” The high pitched screech emanating from Meredith was otherworldly. Her eyes glowed a sickly, familiar smoky red.

Carver looked at her, then back at Cullen. 

Cullen looked at the Knight-Commander. “She’s been tainted with red lyrium! Meredith, I hereby revoke you of any authority you have within the Order.”

“That makes you Knight-Commander, Cullen,” Carver declared.

“So be it,” Cullen stated with a nod. 

“Nooooooo!” Meredith’s scream pierced the air. Her face began to contort into grotesque amorphous blobs. Her body followed as glowing red rock-like chunks sprouted from her shoulders, her arms, piercing her armor. Her body swelled as a glowing red haze enveloped her.

She drew her sword and raised it above her head. It too glowed with the energy of the red lyrium. Her gaze centered on Hawke, and Meredith headed straight for her.

Carver was closest to her and attacked first. She swatted him away like a fly. Cullen’s hand hesitated over the pommel of his sword.

Fenris was ready. Aglow in a mist of red and blue vapor he struck out at Meredith who caught the blow, deflecting it with her sword, which was every bit as big as the one Fenris wielded. 

Hawke realized that since Fenris was also infused with red lyrium now he was likely the only one strong enough to take Meredith in combat. She fired off several spells of ice and fire at Meredith. Nothing seemed to work. She concentrated her magic on imbuing Fenris with strength and speed as he continued to hold Meredith at bay. 

Varric tugged at Hawke’s elbow. “Come on, Boss. Let’s get you, Daisy, and Blondie out of here.”

“No, Varric. I won’t leave him. And I won’t leave them either,” she said glancing at the entrance to Kirkwall’s Circle.

“Damn, you’re stubborn as a nug! Fine let’s get to the Circle, then” he said.

Hawke didn’t turn from Fenris, her magic focused. “Aveline, Isabela, Carver! Guard the path to the Circle’s entrance. We go there next. But, we stick together. I won’t leave him!”

Meredith kept Fenris moving, attacking faster as Fenris began to slow. 

The team stood their ground near the entrance to the Circle, keeping the Templars in the Gallows courtyard. The fact that Carver stood with them, kept the rest of the Templars standing neutral with their weapons sheathed, including Cullen. Though he did intently watch what was happening between Meredith and Fenris.

Anders stood at Hawke’s side, whispering into her ear. “Draw on his lyrium, the blue. Ignore the song of the red as it goads you. Don’t pull it from him though, add your mana to it first. Then, use the combined power to fuel your magic. Never taking, always giving. Open yourself. Let it flow into you. Don’t use the lyrium, Scarlet. Let it use you, become a part of you. He’s a part of you. You are a part of him. Feel it. That’s where the power dwells. Leave it there. Go to it.”

Fenris quickened. His blade seemed lighter. The blue glow took over, the red disappeared. His body turned to blue mist and he moved almost invisibly across the battlefield, striking at her from every possible angle. 

She continued to parry or dodge every blow. But, now Fenris had her on the move. It seemed that Meredith would never tire. As Fenris began to visibly tire again Anders added his magic to Hawke’s to restore balance to the fight. When Fenris again slowed Merrill added her powers.

Now and then, as the two warriors crossed in front of the newly appointed Knight-Commander Cullen, Hawke would see him flinch as he held in his desire to turn the tide of the fight. Evey time he moved a muscle her eyes darted to him in preparation to bring him down should he attack Fenris. As Meredith and Fenris passed in front of Varric, she saw that Bianca was in his hands, and that his eyes were trained on Cullen. She watched Varric bring Bianca to his shoulder and her vision flashed back to Fenris.

Meredith had just dealt a battle-turning blow. Fenris faltered as she brought her great sword around to cut at his unguarded mid-section. 

Hawke watched the scene before her play out tortuously slow. 

His eyes went wide in the moment he realized her blade was about to connect with his unarmored abdomen. He dropped the slow, heavy sword in his grip, reaching for the base of her sword blade with his hands.

In that moment Cullen’s blade rent through Meredith’s right shoulder where her armor had separated as her body swelled, leaving her vulnerable. 

Fenris caught the blade and ripped it from her hands, sending it skittering across the cobblestones.

A haunting howl bellowed from Meredith’s throat as her the eerie red glow that came from within her intensified. Dancing flames of red smoke surrounded her, growing skyward. She fell to her knees and threw back her head as her scream rent the air. The hair burned off of her head, embers floating away on the breeze of the red smoke. Her skin began to glow from within, turning her body as well as her armor, to luminous bright red stone as it spread throughout. 

Cullen sheathed his blade, then reached a hand to Fenris, helping the elf to his feet.

“Thank you, Cullen,” Fenris said. “I owe you one.”

Cullen nodded. “You can take care of that sword. I think you may be the only one who can safely touch it without being corrupted. I’m not sure what you have going on there, but I hope it doesn’t do to you what it did to her.”

“I will see that it is destroyed,” Fenris said, inspecting his battered hands.

Hawke ran to him, wrapped her arms around his middle, and buried her face in his chest.

Bracing for impact, his arms enveloped her as he pressed a kiss to her hair before tucking her head under his chin.

“I didn’t go all the way to Tevinter to get you just to bring you back to Kirkwall to watch you die,” she said holding him at arms’ length. “Promise me you won’t do that again any time soon.”

“I’ll make that promise if you will. I expected you to throw yourself into danger the moment we returned, you know,” he said to her with a raised eyebrow.

“I can’t lose you, Fenris. Not now,” Hawke said with a sigh.

“I feel the same way,” he said pulling her back into his arms, running his hands down the length of her hair where it cascaded down her back.

Cullen cleared his throat.

Hawke jumped, as if she hadn’t realized there was anyone else there to witness the tender scene. Fenris laughed low in his throat.

  


“Hawke, I will let you deal with the mage who started all of this as you see fit. However, it would be in everyone’s best interest if he left my sight immediately,” Cullen said, his sword hand resting on his pommel.

“No!” Sebastian, the Prince of Starkhaven, cried. “This abomination murdered our sweet Mother. He must pay for his crimes!”

“You, Sebastian Vale, are not judge and jury. And you are greatly outnumbered,” Hawke pointed out.

“I won’t stand for it, Hawke,” Sebastian said unshouldering his bow.

Fenris shoved him, hard, his tattoos glowing faintly red, then blue. “Do you think you’ll get to her through me, Chantry boy?” 

Sebastian stumbled backwards. “You can’t let that mage live! You hate mages!”

“If Scarlet says he lives, he lives,” Fenris seethed into Sebastian’s face. “And I do not hate all mages. Right now though . . . I do hate you.”

“I will bring all of Starkhaven down upon him, and then I will come for her,” Sebastian promised.

Fenris’ markings grew brighter blue, then red again. He pulled back his hand and it disappeared into a cloud of red and blue vapor which crept up his arm.

Hawke laid her hand upon his shoulder. “Fenris, please don’t,” she said, a shining example of calm.

The glow left immediately, and his arm rematerialized. “I spare your life only because she asked. You would do well to spare hers. The next time I see you, she will not be there to save you.” He shoved Sebastian again, knocking him to the ground.

Sebastian stood, gathered his bow, and stomped away.

Anders stood straight and proud, surveying his work. Justice was nowhere to be seen now.

Hawke approached him. “Anders, why?”

“The war has been inevitable. We’ve quietly been fighting it for years. I could sit idly by no longer. Just as I could no longer let the Chantry abuse the mages in Kirkwall. Today, we take our lives into our own hands,” he said meeting her eyes.

Hawke laid a hand upon his cheek. “Always so full of passion. That’s what drew me to you in the first place, you know.”

“No, I didn’t know that,” he said letting his eyes close for a moment, reveling in her touch once again.

She wrapped her arms around his neck. 

His went around her waist, one last time. “Thank you, Scarlet.”

She whispered in his ear. “There are two Imperial Warmbloods stabled just North of town at the livery. Take the shorter one. He’s faster, and sure-footed. Run Anders.” Then, she kissed him on the cheek.

He pulled away from the embrace, cupped her cheeks in the palms of his hands and kissed her on the mouth one last time. “I will always love you.”

“I know, Anders. Thank you, for everything. I will always cherish our time together. Be safe. Now, go.”

He turned to Fenris and extended a hand to him. 

Fenris clasped it, forearm-to-forearm, a warrior’s handshake.

“Take care of her, Elf. I won’t be able to do it again. She’s all yours.”

“I will, Mage. I can not say that I am sad to see you go. But, I will miss you the next time she is knocking on Death’s door, probably later tonight.”

Anders laughed, and put his hand on Fenris’ shoulder. They were both awash in blue mist. “Use the markings, Fenris. Practice with her to teach her to use them too. I told you this years ago! You don’t need me.”

“That—is good to hear,” Fenris said, grasping Anders’ shoulder.

Anders turned to leave. Isabela and Merrill surrounded him in a hug. When they released him Varric handed him a coin purse. “Don’t get dead, Blondie.”

“Thanks, V,” Anders said, tying the purse to his belt as he jogged away from the Gallows.

  


Hawke turned back to the new Knight-Commander. “I take it that there will be no Rite of Annulment then, Knight-Commander Cullen.”

“No. There won’t. I do not know what will come next though. But, I will take my Templars into the Circle, find any blood mages that I can and eliminate them. After that, the Circle will have a respite from us,” Cullen told her.

“Very well. I wash my hands of it. I’m putting my trust in you. You’re a good man,” she said extending her hand to him.

He grasped it forearm-to-forearm. “Thank you, messere,” he said, and strode away.

“Carver, a moment?” she beckoned to her brother. “Everyone, gather ‘round, please.”

Varric, Isabela, Merrill, Aveline, Carver, Fenris and Hawke stood shoulder to shoulder in a circle in the Gallows courtyard.

“These past eight years I have grown to love all of you as my family. You have each been there for me when I needed you. And I hope I have returned that favor. But, our journey together ends here,” she declared smiling at Fenris.

“What are you saying, Hawke?” Merrill asked.

“You can’t leave now. Just when it looks like we’ll be putting Kirkwall back together,” Aveline gasped.

“Am I getting a ship?” asked Isabela.

“You two are getting hitched, aren’t ya?” Varric asked, looking at Hawke’s newly adorned finger.

Hawke smiled at Varric then. “Yes. We are. And we’re going to start a new life together . . . not in Kirkwall.”

“We want to get away from all of this. Be free . . . together,” Fenris said putting his arm around her, drawing her near to his side.

“You’re getting married? I thought I still had a chance at getting him in the sack,” Isabela mused.

“That ship sailed a long time ago, Pirate,” Fenris laughed.

Hawke held the ring out for Carver to see.

“The Amell family crest? Where in the Maker’s name did you get that?” Carver asked.

“Mother,” Hawke answered.

“She gave it to you all those years ago and you’re just telling me?” he asked, incredulously.

“No, she gave it to Fenris to give to me when the time was right,” Hawke told her brother.

“She gave it to you all those years ago and you never told me? Or asked my permission to propose to my sister? All those games of Chaser we played together!” Carver exclaimed. “All those pitchers of Varric’s ale!”

Fenris playfully punched Carver in the shoulder. “You wouldn’t have said ‘yes’ to a mage-hating elf anyhow.”

“No. I wouldn’t have. You’re right. But, I’m happy it’s you, for the record,” Carver said punching back. “And not that other one.”

“Carver, I know you’re a Templar, but the house is yours. Bodahn and Sandal are welcome to continue living there. Which I will also tell them. Fenris and I will stop by and pack a few belongings,” Hawke said, turning to him.

“I’ll make sure it has the proper upkeep. Perhaps Aveline and Donnic would like to move in to it?” Carver suggested.

“Won’t you be coming back, Hawke?” Aveline asked.

“Eventually, I suppose, for at least a visit. I don’t know exactly what our future holds, or where we’ll be going, or where we’ll end up. But, I’d like the house to stay in the family name. And I would love for you and Donnic to live in it, and raise your family there if that’s what you decide to do some day. If and when we do return, we’ll cross that bridge,” Hawke told her.

“Very well. I’ll think on it and discuss it with Donnic. Carver, I’ll be in touch,” Aveline said, looking sad.

Hawke embraced Merrill. “I hope you find whatever it is that you’re looking for, ma falon.”

“Dareth shiral to you both,” Merrill said hugging Hawke tightly, pulling in Fenris.

“Varric, would you walk back with us?” Hawke asked him.

“No need for a long goodbye, Boss. Just give me a hug and be gone with you,” he waved dismissively.

Hawke’s eyes welled up. Fenris could feel the lump in her throat. “Walk with us, Dwarf,” he requested.

“Fine, Elf,” Varric conceded.

  


“So, this is it. You two are really leaving. And you’re going to go get married without any of us around to witness it?” Varric scoffed.

“We wouldn’t deny the chance to see you cry at our wedding, Dwarf,” Fenris assured him.

“We’ll invite you all when the day comes. For now we just want to get out of Kirkwall, and away from the madness. We thoroughly enjoyed our time together in Tevinter, and the solitude of life on the road, just the two of us. We decided that that’s what we both wanted. Just to be together, without any of this shit in Kirkwall to fuck it up, you know?” Hawke said kicking at a pebble on the ground in front of her. “My commitment to this place has run its course. I’m tired of it, Varric. Tired of mages versus Templars. Tired of being on someone’s hit list. Tired of solving the problems of an entire city-state. I just want to be with him, without any distractions.”

Fenris scooped a hand around her waist and pulled her to him. “You take my breath away, Scarlet,” he admitted, kissing her.

Varric wiped a finger under one eye. “You two. Finally. Eight sodding years later.”

“Thanks to you,” she said kneeling in front of him, hugging him to her chest.

“Damn you, woman,” Varric said clutching her to him. “Gah, you’re my best friend, Hawke. Best friend I ever had.”

“You’re my best friend too, Varric. Don’t die, okay?”

“You too, buddy,” he said, his voice cracking. “You take care of that elf. He needs it.”

“I will,” she said releasing her dearest friend in the world and standing back up, wiping her cheeks.

“We’re going to Ferelden. We don’t want everyone to know, just in case someone out there tries to track us down. But, we wanted to tell you. I’m going to put your name on all of my accounts, also just in case. I trust you with the Amell fortune. Carver has full access to it as well, but he’s never touched a copper. He lives off of his Templar stipend.

Would you be willing to talk to Isabela, and see if she is interested in splitting the cost of a ship three ways? She can use it to take us to Ferelden. Then, she can do what she likes with it. I’d like it to be a gift, but if she insists on buying out our shares one day I’ll let you handle that.”

“Yeah, that’s a good idea. She deserves it. And you know that she’ll keep your secret,” he said smiling fondly.

“If we buy her a ship she’ll take it to her watery grave!” Hawke laughed. Looking down at Varric she grew more somber. “I’ll write often. I don’t want you to worry about me, about us. We’re just going to go be happy, Varric,” she said looking up at Fenris with nothing but love in her eyes.

“Just you and me,” Fenris said reaching for her hand, squeezing it in his grip.

“Just you and me,” she said squeezing back.

**Author's Note:**

> The story of Scarlet & Fenris continues in the continuation of "Tales of the Inquisitor and Her Commander" entitled "Our Other Inquisitor."
> 
> Link to "Our Other Inquisitor":
> 
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/4166703


End file.
